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I  : 





DECEMBER,  1878. 

The  GrMtneBs  of  England.    By  GoMwin  Sm!i3i 1 

ProgreBS  of  Indian  Religioos  Thonght    By  Professor  Monier  WilUsms.    Part  n.  .19 

Tbe  Reeene  of  Epping  Forest    By  G.  Shaw  Leferret  M.P. 4.5 

The  Phcenieians  in  Greece.     By  the  Rer.  A.  H.  Sayee  •        •        ...        .        .00 

What  Hinders  Ritualists  from  becoming  Roman  Catholics  ?     A  Rejoinder.    By  the 

Abb^  Martin          ,        .                 77 

Woman  in  Turkey.    By  Sir  Walter  C.  James,  Bart lOB 

The  Alcohol  Question : — 

IV.  Advantages  and  Disadvantages  of  AlcohoL  By  Sir  Wflliam  W.  Gnll,  Bart.  181 

v.  Utility  of  Alcohol  in  Health  and  Disease.    By  Dr.  C.  Murchison        .        .  136 
VL  Alcohol  and  Individoality ;  or,  Why  did  he  become  a  Drunkard  ?     By 

Dr.  Moxon 140 

VII.  Action  and  Uses  of  Alcoholic  Drinks.    By  Dr.  S.  Wilks  .        .        .157 

Contemporary  Life  and  Thought : — 

In  Germany.    By  Professor  von  Schulte 168 

In  Russia.    By  T.  S.,  St  Petersburg 175 

Contemporary  Literary  Chronicles  : — 

L  Histo^  and  Geography^  ^^^^^  ^^  Direction  of  Professor  E.  H.  Palmer    .  188 

of  the  E  ist      •        .  > 

n.  Modem  History                         „                „           Professor  S.  R.  Gardiner  195 

in.  Essays,  Novels,  Poetry,  A'c.      „                „           Matthew  Browne    .        .  197 

JANUARY,  1879. 

A  State  Parcel  Post    By  Professor  W.  Stanley  Jevons 209 

Atheism  and  tbe  Church.    By  tbe  Rev.  Canon  Curteis 280 

The  Progress  of  Socialism  in  England.    By  the  Rev.  William  Cunningham    .        .        .  246 

Afi^hanistun  and  tbe  Pan  jab.    By  Professor  Monier  Williams 201 

A  Farmhouse  Dirge.    By  Alfred  Austin 277 

British  Finance :  Its  Present  and  Future.    By  James  E.  Thorold  Rogers       .                 .  281 

Ancient  Egypt.    I.    By  Reginald  Stuart  Poole,  Corr.  Inst  France        ....  304 

The  Personal  Responsibility  of  Bank  Directors.    By  A.  Taylor  Innos             .                 .  322 
The  Alcohol  Question  : — 

VIIL  Temperance  versus  Abstinence.    By  Dr.  Risdon  Bennett  .        .         .841 

IX.  A  Casual  Conversation  on  the  Subject.     By  Dr.  RadclifiFe          .        .        .  345 

X.  Temperance  and  its  Boundaries.    By  Dr.  Kidd 352 

XI.  The  Place  and  Uses  of  Alcohol  as  an  Article  of  Diet    By  R.  Brudenoll 

Carter ^58 

Xn.  Results  of  Experience  in  the  Us  3  of  Alcohol.    By  Dr.  Garrod            .        .  365 
Contemporary  Life  and  Tliought :  — 

In  Franco.    By  Gabriel  Monod 378 

In  Germany.           Professor  von  Schulte 386 

Contemporary  Literary  Chronicles  : — 

L  HistoiT  .nd  Oecgr.phj>  ^^^^^  ^^^  ^.^^.^^  ^^  ^^^^^^^^  ^  ^  p^,^^^  ^^^ 

of  the  East      .        .  >      • 

II.  Church  History,  &c,                   „              „           Professor  Cheetham         .  406 

IIL  Geography,  Geology,  Ac,             „              „           Professor  T.  G.  Bonney  .  409 
IV.  Poetrv                                           ,.              „           Matthew  Browne    .        .414 


FEBRUARY,  1879. 


New  Guiiiea  and  its  Inhabitants.    By  Alfred  R.  Wallace 421 

Professor  Geddos  on  the  Homerio  Problem.  By  Edward  A..  Freeman,  LL.D.,  D.CJL.  .  442 
Ritualism,  Roman  Catholicism,  and  Converts.    In  Reply  to  Dr.  Littledale.    By  the  Rev. 

Father  Ryder 4o8 

Ladies  and  Hospital  Nursing.    By  Warrington  Ha  ward,  F.R.C.S 490 

Money  in  Ancient  Greece  and  Rome.    A  Chapter  in  the  EUstory  of  Political  Economy. 

By  Fran9ois  Lenormant 504 

Professor  Yon  Holtzendorff  on  the  English  Country  Squire.    By  the  Rev.  James  Davies  524 

On  the  Migration  of  Birds.    By  Dr.  August  Weissmann 531 

Co-operative  Stores  and  Common  Sense.    By  the  Rev.  W.  L.  Blackley           .        .        .  553 

Ancient  Egypt.    IL    By  R.  Stuart  Poole,  Corr.  Inst.  France 570 

The  London  Medical  Schools.    By  R.  Brudenell  Garter 582 

Contemporary  Life  and  Thought  in  Russia.  By  T.  S.,  St.  Petersburg  •  .  .  594 
Contemporary  Literary  Chronicles : — 

^  ^^^Mlddk  Ages*^*  1  ^^®'  *^®  Direction  of  J.  Bass  MnUinger,  MA.          .  605 

n.  Political  Economy  „  „  Professor  Bonamy  Price  .  611 
m.  Church  History,  ^             „             „             Professor  Cheetham        .        .614 

IV.  Modem  History                     „             „             Professor  S.  R.  Gardiner        .  617 

y.  Essays,  Novels,  Poetry,  &o.  „             „             Matthew  Browne            .        .  620 

MARCH,  1879. 

Belief  in  Christ :    Its  Relation  to  Miracles  and  to  Evolution.    By  the  Rev.  J.  LL  Davios  629 

The  Anomaly  of  the  Renaissance.    By  Vernon  Loe 645 

New  Planets  near  the  Sun.     By  R.  A^  Proctor 660 

Self-Government  in  Towns.    By  J.  A.  Picton        , 678 

The  Position  and  Influence  of  Women  in  Ancient  Athens.    By  James  Donaldson,  LL.D.  700 

Confession:  Its  Sciontiflc  and  Medical  Aspects.    By  George  Cowell,  F.R.C.S.         .         .  717 

Ancient  Egypt.     III.    By  R.  Stuart  Poolo,  Corr.  Inst.  France 741 

The  Duke  of  Argyll's  History  of  the  Eastern  Question.  By  the  Rev.  Malcolm  MacColl  763 
The  Now  Religious  Movement  in  France.  By- Josephine  E.  Butler  .  .  .  .781 
Greek  and  Latin :  Their  Places  in  Modem  Education  : — 

I.  On  a  Radical  Reform  in  Teaching  the  Classical  Languages.    By  Pro- 

fessor J.  S.  Blackie 795 

II.  On  the  Wortli  of  a  Classical  Education.     By  Professor  Bonamy  Price          .  802 
Contemporary  Literary  Chronicles : — 

I.  Classical  Literature,  under  the  Direction  of  Rev.  Prebendary  J.  Davios,  M.A.  816 

•     II.UUtory«idGoograpby)                               Profe«or  E.  H.  Palmer,  M.A.  82C 
of  the  Last      .         .     > 

HI.  Essays,  Novels,  Poetry,  &c.     „            „        Matthew  Browne      .         .        .  832 


fllWO  large  islands  lie  close  to  tliat  Coutinent  wliich  lias  hitherto 
i  been  selected  l>y  Nature  as  the  chief  seat  of  civilizatioo.  One 
island  is  mtich  larger  than  the  other,  and  the  larger  island  lies 
-between  the  smaller  and  the  Continent  The  larger  island  is  so  placed 
r«s  to  receive  primaeval  iramigi-ation  from  three  quarters — from  France, 
from  the  coast  of  Northern  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries,  and  from 
Jcandinavia,  the  transit  being  rendered  somewhat  easier  in  the  last 
Be  by  the  prevaiUng  winds  and  by  the  little  islands  which  Scotland 
throws  out,  as  resting-places  and  guides  for  the  primferal  navigator, 
into  the  Noilhem  Sea.  The  smaller  island,  on  the  other  hand,  can 
hardly  receive  iramigmtion  except  through  the  larger,  though  its 
southern  ports  look  out,  somewhat  ominously  to  the  eye  of  histoiy, 
towards  Spain.  The  western  and  northeni  parts  of  the  larger  island 
ore  mountamous,  and  it  is  divided  into  two  very  unequal  parts  by  the 
Cheviot  Hills  and  the  mosses  of  tho  Border.  In  the  larger  island  are 
extensive  districts  well  suited  for  grain  :  tho  climate  of  most  of  the 
Bmaller  island  is  too  wet  for  grain  and  good  only  for  pasture.  The 
larger  island  is  full  of  minerals  and  coal,  of  which  the  smaller  island 
is  almost  destitute.  These  are  the  most  salient  features  of  the  scene 
of  English  history,  and,  w^th  a  temperate  climate,  the  chief  physical 
determinante  of  English  destiny. 

A\Tiat,  politically  speaking,  are  the  special  attributes  of  an  island? 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  likely  to  be  settled  by  a  bold  and  enterprising 
race*  Migration  by  laud  under  the  pressure  of  hunger  or  of  a 
fitronger  tribe,  or  from  the  mere  habit  of  wandering,  calls  for  no  special 

•  The  irrit^r  some  time  ago  gare  a  lecture  before  tho  Boy&l  Institution  on  "  The 
tnfitience  of  Geographical  Circiini2rtii&oes  on  Political  Character,"  UBing  Eome  and  England 
aA  UlustimtLons.  It  may  pwluipt  be  right  to  say  that  the  present  papen  which  touches 
hare  and  there  on  matters  <d  political  opinion,  is  not  identical  with  the  latter  portion  of 
tbat  lecture. 




effort  of  courage  or  intelligence  on  the  part  of  the  nomad,  Mi^-ation 
by  Bea  does:  to  go  foith  on  a  straiigo  element  at  all,  courage  is 
required ;  but  we  can  hardly  realize  the  amount  of  courage  required 
to  go  Yolmitarily  out  of  Bight  of  land.  The  first  attempts  at  sliip- 
buUding  also  imply  eupericjr  intelligence,  or  an  effoi-t  by  which  the 
inteUigence  will  be  raised.  Of  the  two  great  races  which  make  up 
the  Englisli  nation,  the  Celtic  had  only  to  pass  a  channel  which  you 
can  Bee  acrossj  wliich  perhaps  in  the  time  of  the  earhest  migration  did 
not  exist.  But  the  Teutons,  who  are  the  dominant  race  and  have 
KUpphed  the  basis  of  the  Euglish  character  and  institutions,  had  to 
pass  a  wider  sea.  From  Scandinavia  especially,  England  receivedt 
nuder  the  form  of  freebooters  who  afterwards  became  conquerors  and 
settlers,  the  veiy  core  and  sinews  of  her  maritime  population,  the 
progenitors  of  the  Blakes  and  Nelsons,  The  Nortlnnan,  like  the 
Pho:*nician,  had  a  country  too  narrow  for  him,  and  timber  for  ship- 
buikliug  at  hand.  But  the  land  of  iliQ  Phoenician  was  a  lovely  land, 
which  bound  him  to  itself;  and  wherever  he  roved  his  heaii  still 
turned  to  the  pleasaut  abodes  of  Lebanon  and  the  suuKt  quays  of 
Tyre.  Thus  he  became  a  merchant,  and  the  father  of  all  who  have 
made  the  estranging  sea  a  highway  and  a  bond  between  nations,  more 
than  atoning,  by  the  service  thus  rendered  to  humanity,  for  his  craft, 
his  treachery,  hit;  cruelty,  and  his  Mulucli-worship.  The  laud  of  the 
Scandinavian  was  not  a  lovely  land,  though  it  was  a  land  suited  to 
form  strong  arms,  strong  hearts,  chaste  natures,  and»  with  purity^ 
strength  of  domestic  affection.  He  was  glad  to  exchange  it  fur  a 
sunnier  dwelling-place^  and  thus,  instead  of  becoming  a  merchant,  he 
became  the  founder  of  Norman  dynasties  in  Italy,  France,  and  Eng- 
land. We  are  tempted  to  linger  over  the  story  of  these  pruna^val 
mariners,  for  nothing  equals  it  in  romance.  In  our  days  science  has 
gone  before  the  most  adventurous  barque,  limiting  the  poesibihties  of 
discovery,  disenchanthig  the  enchanted  seas,  and  depriving  us  for 
ever  of  Siudbad  and  Ulysses.  But  the  Phoenician  and  the  Northman 
put  forth  into  a  really  unknown  world.  The  Northman,  moreover, 
was  so  far  as  we  know  the  firat  ocean  sailor.  If  the  story  of  the 
circumnavigation  of  Africa  by  the  Phoenicians  is  tmCj  it  w^as  an 
astoBiehing  enterprise,  and  almost  dwarfs  modern  voyages  of  dis- 
covery. Still  it  would  be  a  coasting  voyage,  and  the  Phoenician 
seems  generally  to  have  hugged  the  land*  But  the  Northman  put 
freely  out  into  the  wide  Atlantic,  and  even  crossed  it  before  Columbus^ 
if  we  may  believe  a  legend  made  spcciaHy  dear  to  the  Americans  by 
the  craving  of  a  new  country  for  antiquities.  It  has  been  truly  said, 
that  the  feeling  of  the  Greek,  mariner  as  he  was,  towards  the  sea, 
remained  rather  one  of  ftar  and  avei-sion,  intensified  perhaps  by  the 
treacherous  character  of  the  squally  iEgean;  but  the  Northman 
evidently  felt  perfectly  at  home  on  the  ocean,  and  rode  joyously,  like 
a  seabhd,  on  the  vast  Atlantic  waves. 

2a  I  ST         oos   .  3 
77  53  S 

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7y/£  G7JR4  rA^55  OF  EXGLAm), 


JTot  only  is  a  race  which  comes  by  eea  likely  to  be  peculiarly 
vigorouB,  self-reliant,  and  iiiclinecl,  when  settled,  to  political  liberty, 
but  the  very  process  of  maritime  migration  can  scarcely  fail  to  intensify 
the  spirit  of  freedom  and  independence.  Timon  or  Genghis  Khan, 
sweeping  on  from  land  t4:*  land  with  the  vast  human  herd  under  his 
flway,  becomes  more  despotic  as  the  herd  grows  larger  by  accretion, 
and  the  area  of  its  conquests  is  increased.  But  a  maritime  migration 
is  a  nxnnber  of  Uttle  joint-stock  enterprises  implying  Hcnited  leader- 
ship, common  counsels,  and  a  good  deal  of  equality  among  the  adven- 
turers. We  see  in  fact  that  the  Saxon  immigration  resulted  in  the 
foundation  of  a  number  of  email  communities  which,  though  they 
were  afterwards  fused  into  seven  or  eight  petty  kingdoms  and  ulti- 

tely  into  one  large  kingdom,  must,  while  they  existed,  have  fostered 
labitfi  of  local  independence  and  self-government.  Maritime  migra- 
tion would  also  facilitate  the  transition  from  the  tribe  to  the  nation, 
because  the  ships  could  hardly  be  manned  on  purely  tribal  principles : 
the  early  Saxon  communities  in  England  appear  in  fact  to  have  been 
«eini-tribal,  the  local  bond  predominating  over  the  tribal,  though  a 
name  with  a  tribal  termination  is  retained-  Room  would  scarcelj^  be 
found  in  the  ships  for  a  full  proportion  of  women  ;  the  want  would  be 
supplied  by  taking  the  women  of  the  conquered  country  ;  and  thus 
tribal  rules  of  exclusive  intermarriage,  and  all  barriers  connected  with 
them,  woidd  be  broken  down. 

Another  obvious  attribute  of  an  island  is  freedom  from  invasion. 
The  success  of  the  Saxon  invaders  may  be  ascribed  to  the  absence  of 
strong  resistance.  The  policy  of  Roman  conquest,  by  disarming  the 
natives,  had  destroyed  their  mihtary  character,  as  the  policy  of 
British  conquest  has  done  in  India,  where  races  which  once  fought 
hard  against  the  invader  under  their  native  princes,  such  as  the  people 
of  My  sure,  are  now  wholly  unwarlike*  Anything  hke  national  unity, 
or  power  of  co-operation  against  a  foreign  enemy,  had  at  the  same 
time  been  extii-pated  by  a  government  which  divided  that  it  might 
command.  The  Northman  in  his  turn  owed  his  success  partly  to  the 
want  of  unity  among  the  Saxon  principalities,  partly  and  principally 
to  the  command  of  the  sea  which  the  Saxon  usually  abandoned  to 
him,  and  which  enabled  him  to  choose  his  own  point  of  attack,  and  to 
baffle  the  movements  of  the  defenders.  When  Alfred  built  a  fleet,  the 
case  was  changed.  William  of  Normandy  would  scarcely  have  suc- 
ceeded, great  as  his  armament  was,  had  it  not  been  for  the  diversion 
effected  in  his  favour  by  the  landing  of  the  Scandinavian  pretender  in 
the  North,  and  the  failure  of  provisions  in  Harold's  Channel  fleet, 
which  compelled  the  fleet  to  put  into  port.  Louis  of  France  was 
called  in  as  a  deliverer  by  the  barons  who  were  in  arms  against  the 
tyranny  of  John;  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  discuss  the  Tory  descrip- 
tion of  the  coming  of  William  of  Orange  as  a  conquest  of  England  by 
the  Dutch*   Bonaparte  threatened  invasion,  but  unhappily  was  unable 

B  2 


to  invade  :  unliappily  we  say,  becauBe  if  lie  liad  landed  in  England  he 
would  assuredly  have  there  met  his  dooro;  the  Kussian  campaig'n 
Tvonld  have  been  autedated  with  a  more  complete  result,  and  all  the 
after-pages  in  the  history  of  the  Arch-Brigand  would  have  been  torn 
from  the  book  of  fate,  England  is  indebted  for  her  pohtical  liberties 
in  great  measure  to  the  Teutonic  character,  but  she  is  also  in  no  small 
measure  indebted  to  this  immunity  from  invasion  which  has  brouglit 
w^ith  it  a  comparative  immunity  from  standing  armies.  In  the  middle 
ages  the  question  between  absolutism  and  that  baronial  hberty 
which  was  the  germ  and  precursor  of  the  popular  liberty  of  after- 
times  turned  in  great  measure  upon  the  relative  strength  of  the 
natinual  militia  and  of  the  bands  of  mercenaries  kept  in  pay  by  over- 
reaching kings.  The  bands  of  mercenaries  brought  over  by  John 
proved  too  strong  for  the  patriot  barons,  and  would  have  annulled  the 
Great  Cliarter,  had  not  national  Uberty  found  a  timely  and  powerful, 
though  sinister  auxiliary  in  the  ambition  of  the  French  Prince. 
Charles  L  had  no  standing  array:  the  troops  taken  into  pay  for  the 
wars  witli  Spain  and  France  had  been  disbanded  before  the  outbreak 
of  the  He  volution  ;  and  on  that  occasion  the  nation  was  able  to  over- 
throw the  tyranny  without  looking  abroad  for  assistance.  But 
Charles  IL  had  learned  wisdom  from  his  father's  fate;  ho  kept  up  a 
small  standing  army ;  and  the  Whigs,  though  at  the  crisis  of  the 
Exclusion  Bill  they  laid  their  hands  upon  their  swords,  never  ventured 
to  drnw  them,  but  allowed  themselves  to  be  proscribed,  their  adherents 
to  be  ejected  from  the  corporations,  and  their  leaders  to  be  brought  to 
the  scaffold.  Resistance  was  iu  the  same  way  rendered  hopeless  by 
the  standing  army  of  James  IL,  and  the  patriots  were  compelled  to 
stretch  their  hands  for  aid  to  Wilham  of  Omnge.  Even  so,  it  might 
have  gone  hard  with  them  if  James's  soldiers,  and  above  all  Churchill, 
had  been  true  to  their  paymaster.  Navies  are  not  political  j  they  do 
not  overthrow  constitutions;  and  iu  the  time  of  Charles  L  it  appears 
that  the  leading  seamen  were  Protestant,  and  inchned  to  the  side  of 
th'3  Parliament.  Perhaps  Protestantism  had  been  rendered  fashionable 
in  tLe  navy  by  the  naval  wars  with  Spain. 

A  third  consequence  of  ijisular  position,  especially  in  early  times,  is 
isolation*  An  extreme  case  of  isolation  is  presented  by  Egypt,  which 
is  iu  fact  a  great  island  in  the  desert.  The  extraordinary  fertihty  of 
the  valley  of  t!ie  Nile  produced  an  early  development,  wliich  was 
afterwards  arrested  by  its  isolation;  the  isolation  being  probably 
inteiifeified  by  the  jealous  exclusiveness  of  a  powerful  priesthood  w^liich 
discouraged  maritime  pursuits.  The  isolation  of  England,  though 
comparatively  slight,  has  still  been  an  important  factor  in  her  history^ 
She  underwent  less  than  the  Continental  provinces  the  influeuco  of 
Koman  conquest.  Scotland  and  Ireland  escaped  it  altogether,  for  the 
tide  of  invasion,  having  flowed  to  the  foot  of  the  Grampians,  soon 
ebbed  to  the  Une  between  the  Solway  and  Tyne.     Britain  has  no 




monuinents  of  Homan  power  and  civilization  like  those  which  have 
been  left  in  Gaul  and  Spain,  and  of  British  Christianity  of  the  Roman 
period  hardlj  a  tmce,  monnmental  or  historical,  remaine.  By  the 
Saxon  conqnest  England  was  entirely  severed  for  a  time  from  the 
luropean  system.  The  misBionary  of  ecclesiastical  Rome  recovered 
what  the  legionary  had  lost.  Of  the  main  elements  of  English 
character  poUtical  and  general,  five  were  brought  together  when 
Ethelbert  and  Augustine  met  on  the  coast  of  Kent,  The  king  repre- 
sented Tentonism ;  the  missionary  represented  Judaism,  Christianity, 
imperial  and  ecclesiastical  Rome,  We  mention  Judaism  as  a  separate 
element,  because,  among  other  things,  the  image  of  the  Hebrew 
monarchy  has  certainly  entered  largely  into  the  poHtical  conceptions 
of  Englishmen,  perhaps  at  least  as  largely  as  the  image  of  imperial 
Rome.  A  sixth  element,  classical  Republicanism,  came  in  with  the 
Keformation,  while  the  political  and  social  influence  of  science  is  only 
just  beginning  to  be  felt.  Still,  after  the  conversion  of  England  by 
Augustine,  the  Church,  which  was  the  main  organ  of  civilization,  and 
almost  identical  with  it  in  the  early  middle  ages,  remained  national ; 
and  to  make  it  thoroughly  Roman  and  Papal*  in  other  words  to  assimilate 
it  completely  to  the  Church  of  the  Continent,  was  the  object  of  Hilde- 
brand  m  promoting  the  enterprise  of  Wilham.  Roman  and  Papal  the 
English  Church  was  made,  yet  not  so  thoroughly  so  as  completely  to 
destroy  its  insular  and  Teutonic  clmracter.  The  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury was  still  Papa  alteriiis  orlns ;  and  the  still gglc  fur  national  inde- 
pendence of  the  Papacy  commenced  in  England  long  before  the 
struggle  for  doctrinal  reform.  The  Reformation  broke  up  the  con- 
federated Christendom  of  the  middle  ages,  and  Eugland  was  then 
thrown  back  into  an  isolation  verj^  marked,  though  tempered  by  her 
Bynipathy  with  the  Protestant  party  on  the  Continent.  In  later  times 
the  growth  of  European  interests,  of  commerce,  of  international  law, 
of  international  intercourse,  of  the  community  of  intellect  and  science, 
has  been  gi-adually  bnilding  again,  on  a  sounder  foundation  than  that 
of  the  Latin  Church,  the  fedemtion  of  Europe,  or  rather  the  federation 
of  mankind.  The  political  sympathy  of  England  ^vith  Continental 
nations,  especially  vnth  France,  has  been  increasing  of  late  in  a  very 
marked  manner ;  the  French  Revolution  of  1830  told  at  once  upon  the^ 
fortunes  of  English  Reform,  and  the  victoiy  of  the  Repnbhc  over  the  re- 
actionary attempt  of  May  was  profoundly  felt  by  both  parties  in  England. 
Placed  too  close  to  the  Continent  not  to  be  essentially  a  part  of  the 
European  system,  England  has  yet  been  a  peculiar  and  semi-indepen- 
dent part  of  it.  In  European  progress  she  has  often  acted  as  a 
balancing  and  moderatiog  power.  She  has  been  the  asylum  of  van- 
quished ideas  and  parties.  In  the  seventeenth  century,  when  absolutism 
and  the  Catholic  reaction  prevailed  on  the  Continent,  she  was  the 
chief  refuge  of  Protestantism  and  political  liberty.  When  the  French 
Revolution  swept  Europe,  she  threw  heraelf  into  the  anti-revolutionary 



scale.  The  tricolor  Las  gone  nearly  round  the  worlds  at  least  nearly 
round  Europe;  but  ou  the  flag  of  England  still  remains  the  religious 
symbol  of  the  era  before  the  Revolution, 

The  insular  arrogance  of  the  English  character  is  a  commonplace 
joke.  It  finds,  perhaps,  its  strongest  expression  in  the  saying  of 
Milton  that  the  manner  of  God  is  to  reveal  things  first  to  His  English- 
men, It  has  made  Englishmen  odious  even  to  those  who,  hke  the 
Spaniards,  have  received  liberation  or  protection  from  English  hands. 
It  stimulated  the  desperate  desire  to  see  France  rid  of  the  **  Goddams" 
whieli  hispired  Joan  of  Arc.  For  an  imperial  people  it  ij3  a  very 
unlucky  pecuharity,  since  it  precludes  not  only  fusion  but  sympathy 
and  almost  mtercourse  vnih  the  subject  races.  The  kind  heart  of 
Lord  Elgin,  when  he  was  Governor-General  of  India,  was  shocked  by 
the  absolute  want  of  sympathy  or  bond  of  any  kind,  except  love  of 
conquest,  between  the  Anglo-Indian  and  the  native;  and  the  gidf 
apparently,  instead  of  being  filled  up,  now  yawns  wider  than  ever. 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  on  anything  so  commonplace  as  the  efiRect  of 
an  insular  position  in  giving  birth  to  commerce  and  developing  the 
corresponding  elements  of  political  character.  The  Bntish  Islands  are 
singularly  well  placed  for  trade  with  both  hemispheres ;  in  them,  more 
than  in  any  other  point,  may  be  placed  the  commercial  centre  of  the 
workL  It  may  be  said  that  the  nation  looked  out  unconsciously  from 
its  cradle  to  an  immense  heritage  beyond  the  Atlantic,  France  and 
Spain  looked  the  same  way,  and  became  competitors  with  England 
for  ascendency  in  the  New  World ;  but  England  was  more  maritime, 
and  the  most  maritime  was  sure  to  prevail.  Canada  was  conquered  by 
the  BritiBli  fleet.  To  the  commerce  and  the  maritime  enterprise  of 
former  days,  wluch  %vere  mainly  the  results  of  geographical  position, 
hae  been  added  within  the  last  century  the  vast  development  of 
manufactures  produced  by  coal  and  steam,  the  parents  of  manufactures, 
as  well  as  the  expansion  of  the  iron  trade  in  close  connection  with 
manufactures.  Nothing  can  be  more  mai^ked  than  the  eflfcct  of 
industry  on  political  character  in  the  case  of  England.  From  being 
the  chief  seat  of  reaction,  the  North  has  been  converted  by  manu- 
factures into  the  chief  seat  of  progress.  The  Wars  of  the  Roses  were 
not  a  struggle  of  pohtical  principle  ;  hardly  even  a  dynastic  sti-uggle; 
they  had  their  origin  partly  in  a  patriotic  antagonism  to  the  foreign 
queen  and  to  her  foreign  councils ;  but  they  were  in  the  main  a  vast 
faction-fight  between  two  sectioiis  of  an  armed  and  turbulent  nobility 
turned  into  buooaneers  by  the  French  wars,  and,  like  their  compeers 
all  over  Europe,  bereft,  by  the  decay  of  Cathohcism,  of  the  religious 
restraints  vnth.  which  their  murality  was  bound  up.  But  the  Lancas- 
trian iiarty,  or  rather  the  party  of  Margaret  of  Anjou  and  her  favourites, 
was  the  more  reactionary,  and  it  had  the  centre  of  its  strength  in  the 
North,  whence  Margaret  drew  the  plundering  and  devastating  host 
which  gained  for  her  the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans  and  paid  the 


penalty  of  ite  ravagee  in  the  mercilees  elanghter  of  Towton.     The 

jKoftli  had  been  kept  back  in  the  race  of  progress  by  agricaltural 

linferiority,  by  the  absence  of  commerce  with  the  Continent,  and  by 

jfcorder  wars  with  Scotland*     In  the  Sonth  was  the  seat  of  prosperoua 

Pindnstry,  wealth,  and  comparative  ci^Hlization ;  and  the  banners  of 

the  Sonthem  cities  were  in  the  annies  of  the  House  of  York.     The 

South  accepted  the  Reformation,  while  the  Nnrth  wais  the  scene  of  the 

[iHlgnmage  of  Grace.     Coming  down  to  the  Civil  War  in  the  time  of 

trlea  L,  wo  find  the  Parliament  strong  in  the  South   and  East, 

^ 'where  are  etill  the  centres  of  commerce  and  manufactures,  even  the 

iron  trade,  which  has  \\s  smelting  works  in  Sussex.     In  the  North  the 

feudal  tie  between  landlord  and  tenant,  andtbe  sentiment  of  the  past, 

[iroserve  much  of  their  force ;  and  the  great  power  in  those  parts  is  the 

irqnis  of  Newcastle,  at  once  great  territorial  lord  of  the  middle  ages 

and  elegant  (pwi^  9eiffneur  of  the  Renaissance,  who  brings  into  the 

field  a  famous  regiment  of  his  own  retainers.     In  certain  towns,  such 

as  Bradford  and  Manchester  there  are  germs  of  manufacturing  industry, 

and  these  form  the  sinews  of  the  Parliamentarian  party  in  the  district 

which  is  headed  by  the  Fairfaxes,      But  in  the  Reform  movement 

which  extended  through  the  first  half  of  the  present  century,  the 

l^eogniphieal  position  of  parties  was  reversed ;  the  swarming  cities  of 

^ibe  North  were  then  the  great  centres  of  Liberalism  and  the  motive 

power  of  reform  ;  while  the  South,  having  by  this  time  fallen  into  the 

hands  of  great  lauded  proprietors,  was  Consei-vativo,     The  stimulating 

eflfect  of  populous  centres  on  opinion  is  a  very  familiar  fact :  even  in 

the  rural  districts  it  is  noticed  by  canvassers  at  elections  that  men  who 

work  in  gangs  are  generally  more  inclined  to  the  Liberal  side  than 

those  who  work  separately. 

In  England,  however,  the  agricidtural  element  always  has  been  and 
remains  a  full  counterpoise  to  the  manufacturing  and  commercial 
element.  Agricultm-al  England  is  not  what  Pericles  called  Attica,  a 
mere  suburban  garden,  the  embellishment  of  a  queenly  city.  It  is  a 
sabetantive  interest  and  a  political  power.  In  the  time  of  Cliarles  I, 
it  happened  that,  owing  to  the  great  quantity  of  land  thrown  into  the 
market  in  consequence  of  the  confiscation  of  the  monastic  estates,  which 
had  slipped  through  the  fingers  of  the  spendthrift  courtiers  to  whom  they 
were  at  first  granted, small  freeholders  were  very  numerous  in  the  South, 
and  these  men,  like  the  middle  class  in  the  towns,  being  strong  Pro- 
testants, went  with  the  Parliament  against  the  Laudian  reaction  in 
religion.  But  land  in  the  hands  of  great  proprietors  is  Conservative, 
especially  when  it  is  held  under  entails  and  connected  with  hereditary 
nobility ;  and  into  the  hands  of  great  proprietors  the  land  of  England 
has  now  entirely  passed.  The  last  remnant  of  the  old  yeomen  freeholders 
departed  in  the  Cumberland  Statesmen,  and  the  yeoman  freeholder  in 
England  is  now  about  as  rare  as  the  other.  Commerce  has  itself 
wiwinted  the  process  by  giving  birth  to  great  forttmes,  the  owners  of 

which  are  led  by  social  ambition  to  buy  landed  eBtatee,  becanae  to  land 
the  odour  of  feudal  Biiperiority  etill  clinge,  and  it  is  almost  the  Deceseary 
qualification  for  a  title.  The  land  has  also  actually  absorbed  a  large 
portion  of  the  wealth  produced  by  manufactures,  and  by  the  general 
development  of  industry;  the  estateB  of  Northern  landowners  espe- 
cially have  enormously  increased  in  value,  through  the  increase  of 
population,  not  to  mention  the  not  inconsiderable  appropriation  of 
commercial  wealth  by  oiarriage.  Thus  the  Conservative  element 
retains  its  predominance,  and  it  even  seems  as  though  the  land  of 
ililton,  Vane,  Cromwell,  and  the  Reformers  of  1832,  might  after  all 
become,  pohtically  as  well  as  territorially,  the  domain  of  a  vast 
aristocracy  of  landowners,  aud  the  most  reactionary  instead  of  the 
most  progressive  coimtry  in  Europe.  Before  the  repeal  of  the  Com 
Laws  there  was  a  strong  antagonism  of  interest  between  the  land- 
owning aristocracy  and  the  mamrfacturers  of  the  North:  but  that 
antagonism  is  now  at  an  cud ;  the  sympathy  of  wealth  has  taken  its 
place ;  the  old  aristocracy  has  veiled  its  social  pride  and  learned  to 
conciliate  the  new  men,  who  on  their  part  are  more  than  willing  to 
enter  the  privileged  circle.  This  junction  is  at  present  the  great  fact 
of  English  pohtics,  and  was  the  main  cause  of  the  overthrow  of  the 
Liberal  Government  in  1874.  The  growth  of  the  great  cities  itself 
seems  likely,  as  the  number  of  poor  householders  increases,  to  furnish 
Reaction  with  auxiliaries  in  the  shape  of  political  Lazzaroni  capable  of 
being  organized  by  wealth  in  opposition  to  the  higher  order  of  work- 
men and  the  middle  class.  In  Haniugtou  s  '*  Oceania/*  there  is  much 
nonsense;  but  it  rises  at  least  to  the  level  of  Montesquieu  in  tracing 
the  intimate  connection  of  political  power,  even  under  elective  institii- 
tioDS,  with  wealth  in  land. 

Hitherto,  the  result  of  the  balance  between  the  landowning  and 
commercial  elements  has  been  steadiness  of  political  progress,  in  con- 
trast on  tlie  one  hand  to  the  commercial  republics  of  Italy,  whose 
pohtical  progress  was  precocious  aud  rapid  but  shoi-tHved,  and  on  the 
other  hand  to  great  feudal  kingdoms  where  commerce  was  compara- 
tively weak.  England,  as  yet,  has  taken  but  few  steps  backwards* 
It  remains  to  be  seen  what  the  future  may  bring  under  the  changed 
conditions  which  wo  have  just  described,  English  commerce,  more- 
over, may  have  passed  its  acme.  Her  insidar  position  gave  Great 
Britain  during  the  Napoleonic  wars,  with  immunity  from  invasion,  a 
monopoly  of  manufactures  and  of  the  canning  trade.  This  element 
of  her  commercial  supremacy  is  transitory,  though  others,  such  as  the 
possession  of  coal,  are  not. 

Let  us  now  consider  the  effects  of  the  division  between  tlie  two- 
islands  and  of  those  between  different  parts  of  the  larger  island.  The 
most  obvious  effect  of  these  is  tardy  consoHdation,  which  is  still  indi- 
cated by  the  absence  of  a  collective  name  for  the  people  of  the  three 
kingdoms.     The  writer  was  once  rebuked  by  a  Scotchman  for  saying 




iT    Tha\ 



li7&«Swni^ttilai«  •!  Ae  «Imm«Is  «r  OsWe 

liie  t«N>  idaaii  lttgrthM,lfc^gi  — it  b«ftr  •  Tcayoooader' 

toOwTeatuaeclaRWt     Tht  krgc  li  iiih  ■iWluatglii 

ad  in  l]be  otiM  of  Nm^chi  Bttg^Md  «  |i>w»d  )if 

liie  JbnerioHi  Orwrtiiiflrt  &»  Imh  niore  tiuui  holds  ili 

In  &e  a«e  of  die  stoMM^pne  Ae  Scoteh  Htg^lilMidi,  Ike 

of  CMabola&d  mni  WeBtmmhxsd,  of  Wiko,  cmT  D^toih 

OoimniB,  aie  Hie  asjlom  of  natniml  be^ivilT,  of  poelij  and 

Tepoee  fexm  tbe  din  and  tuimoil  of  oommeraid  kif«^ 


I  age  of  ooiiif<]iiest  they,  witli  sea-gut  Iiefauiidi  wwi  llie 
I  c^liie  weaker  race.  There  the  Celt  found  rofuge  wlieii  Saxon 
inraflicm  ewept  faim  &om  th^  open  country  of  England  and  from  the 
S<Mytdi  Lo^vfiands.  There  he  was  preeerred  vnih  hh  own  latignagei 
indicating  bj  its  Tariety  of  dialects  the  rapid  flux  and  chnngx>  of  un» 
wxitt&n  qieech;  with  his  own  form  of  CSiiistiautty,  tliat  of  Apoj^toUc 
Britain ;  wilii  his  nn-Teutonic  gifts  and  weakneaeee)  hia  livoly«  ^ociali 
sympathetic  nature^  his  religions  enthuBiaam,  e^entially  the  eame  in  itn 
(^Tinistic  as  in  its  Catholic  guise,  hia  superstition,  hia  clanniidin««a8,  \\\» 
doTotion  to  chiefs  and  leaders^  his  comparative  indiflVronce  to  instilu- 
tkmflr  and  lack  of  natural  aptitude  for  self-government. 

The  further  we  go  in  these  inquiries  the  more  roaaon  there  seemw  to 
be  for  believing  that  the  peculiarities  of  races  are  not  congenital,  hut 
impreased  by  primaeval  circumstance.  Not  only  the  same  moral  antl 
intellectual  nature,  but  the  same  primitive  iustitations,aro  foutul  itt  nil 
the  races  that  come  imder  our  view;  they  appear  alike  in  Ttnitun,{%>lU 
and  Semite,  That  which  is  not  congenital  is  probably  not  iiidt^Iiblr, 
so  that  the  less  favoured  races,  placed  under  happier  inr^^uniRtaiines. 
may  in  time  be  brought  to  the  level  of  the  more  favourod^  and  iiotliiiig 
warrants  inhuman  pride  of  race.  But  it  is  surely  absurd  to  tleuy  that 
peculiarities  of  race,  when  formed,  are  important  faotorn  in  hUteiry, 
Mr.  Buckle,  who  is  most  severe  upon  tho  extnivugurH^tH  (if  tln^  m*w 
theory,  himself  runs  into  extravagances  not  less  nmnifcHt  in  a  diHVroni 
direction.  He  connects  tho  religious  character  of  ihi^  Spaniards  wilti 
the  influence  of  apocryphal  volcanoes  and  earllnpiaknH,  wliumaw  it 
palpably  had  its  origin  in  the  long  struggle  witli  the  lloom,  lla  in 
like  manner  connects  the  theological  tendencies  of  the  Hcoich  with 
the  thunderstorms  which  he  imagines  (wronglyt  if  we  may  jo<lgw  by 
our  own  experience)  to  be  very  frequent  in  the  Iligblaniln,  wliurnaii 
Scotch  theology  and  the  religious  habiU  of  the  Scotch  gonemllj  were 




fonned  in  tho  Loivlands  and  among  the  Teutons,  not  among  the 

The  remnant  of  the  Celtic  race  in  ConiTrall  and  West  Devon  was 
small,  and  was  Bubdiied  and  half  incorporated  by  the  Teutons  at  a 
comparatively  early  period ;  yet  it  played  a  difitinct  and  a  decidedly 
Celtic  part  in  the  Civil  War  of  the  sevenfeenth  century.  It  played  a 
more  impoiiant  part  towards  the  close  of  the  folloT\dng  centuiy  by 
gi^ong  itself  almost  in  a  mass  to  John  Wesley.  No  doubt  the  neglect 
of  the  remote  districts  by  the  Bishops  of  Exeter  and  their  clergj^  left 
Wesley  a  clear  field ;  but  the  temperament  of  the  people  was  also  in 
his  favour.  Anything  fervent  takes  with  the  Celt,  while  he  cannot 
abide  the  religious  compromise  which  commends  itself  to  the  practical 

In  the  Great  Charter  there  is  a  pro\dsion  in  favour  of  the  Welsh, 
who  were  allied  wdth  the  Barons  in  insuiTGction  against  the  Crown. 
The  Barons  were  fighting  for  the  Charter,  tho  Welshmen  only  for 
their  barbarous  and  predatory  independence.  But  the  struggle  for 
Welsh  independence  helped  those  who  were  straggling  for  the 
CTiarter ;  and  the  remark  may  be  extended  in  substance  to  the  general 
influence  of  Wales  on  the  political  contest  between  the  Crown  and 
the  Barons.  Even  imder  the  House  of  Lancaster,  Llewellyn  was 
faintly  reproduced  m  Owen  Glen  dower.  The  powerful  monarchy  of 
the  Tudore  finally  completed  the  annexation.  But  isolation  survived 
independence.  The  Welshman  remained  a  Celt,  preserved  his  lan- 
guage and  his  clannish  spirit,  though  local  magnates,  such  as  the 
family  of  Wynn,  filled  the  place  in  his  heart  once  occupied  by  the 
oliief.  Ecclesiastically  he  was  annexed,  but  refused  to  be  incor- 
porated, never  seeing  the  advantage  of  walking  in  the  middle  path 
which  the  State  Church  of  England  had  traced  between  the  extremes 
of  Popery  and  Dissent.  He  took  Methodism  in  a  Calvinistic  and 
almost  wildly  enthusiastic  form.  In  this  respect  liis  isolation  is  likely 
to  prove  far  more  important  than  anything  which  Welsh  patriotism 
stiives  to  resuscitate  by  Eisteddfodds*  In  the  struggle^  apparently 
imminent,  between  the  system  of  Church  Establishments  and  religious 
equahty,  Wales ftu'nislies  a  most  favourable  battle-ground  to  the  pai'ty 
of  Disestablishment. 

The  Teutonic  realm  of  England  was  powerful  enough  to  subdue,  if 
not  to  asshnilato,  the  remnants  of  the  Celtic  race  in  Wales  and  their 
other  western  hills  of  refuge.  But  the  Teutonic  realm  of  Scotland 
was  not  large  or  powerfrJ  enough  to  subdue  the  Celts  of  the  High- 
lauds,  whose  fastueBses  constituted  in  geographical  area  the  gi-eater 
portion  of  the  country.  It  seems  that  in  the  case  of  the  Highlands, 
as  in  that  of  Ireland,  Teutonic  adventurers  found  then"  way  into  the 
domain  of  the  Celts  and  became  chieftains,  but  in  becoming  chief- 
tains they  became  Celts.  Do^vn  to  the  Hanoverian  times  the  chain  of 
the  Grampians  which  from  the  Castle  of  StirUng  is  seen  rising  Hke  a 



of  the 

v^  orar  tb^  liek  pknv  dbided  tmm  m^  otber  two 

embed  of  vlidb  etOl  regarded  li»  wu&s^ 
Ike  iBore  oMbod  regaided  Um  kn 
hdem^Bj^  tlie  tepognpliioal  ^useter  of  tibt 
IS  &ToaiaIife  to  tile  oontimKiice  of  &b  dui  syitoiv 
clui  k^Tiii^  ito  own  iiqiiaato  ^«u  fcnoa  vaa  {K«ch^ 
lowaidi  tmioik  went  no  fiotiier  than  tba  dcKmmatioii 
loce  powesfid  clmna  oTer  the  lees  powerfuL  Mountains  ako 
flio  gawEsl  eqmdiij  and  btoHiei^ood  wUok  aie  not  few 
totkfiMOMliliiliQn  rfHie  dan  timn  dsrotion  to  die  dttcC 
bj  pgcviBithig  tiie  use  of  that  great  minister  of  axiatooiacj,  the  hoioeb 
Ai  Effieennkie  and  Pieelonpans  the  leaders  of  the  olan  and  the 
hfTT^^^**^  efanamen  still  chaiged  on  foot  side  bj  ^e.  Haeanlaj  is  nn* 
dowbte^^  right  in  sa jing  that  the  Highland  riinngs  against  WiUiAni  IIL 
anl  the  fiist  two  Geofges  were  not  djnastio  but  clan  movement 
Tli^  were  in  fiu^  the  last  nids  of  the  Qael  iqpon  the  country  which 
bad  been  wrested  from  him  by  the  Sassenach.  Little  cared  the  clans- 
for  the  piiiftciplee  of  FOmer  or  Locke,  for  the  claims  of  the  House 
or  for  thoee  of  the  House  of  Brunswick.  Antipathy  to  the 
Campbell  was  the  neaxest  approach  to  a  poEtteal  motive,  Chieis 
such  as  the  nn^keakable  Lorat.  had  entered  as  political  emdoi^ 
I  into  the  dynastic  intrigues  of  the  period,  and  brought  the  clay- 
res  of  their  clansmen  to  the  standard  of  their  patron,  as  Indian 
in  the  American  wars  brought  the  tomahawks  of  their  tribes 
the  standard  of  France  or  England*  Celtic  independence  grea^ 
ntributed  to  the  general  perpetuation  of  anarchy  in  Scotland*  to  the 
ess  of  Scotch  civilization,  and  to  the  abortire  wea^ess  of 
Parliamentary  institutions.  Union  with  the  more  powerful  king- 
dom at  last  supplied  the  force  requisite  for  the  taming  of  the  Celt 
Highlapdeis»  at  the  bidding  of  Chatham^s  genius,  became  the  soldiers, 
and  are  now  the  pet  soldieis,  of  the  British  monarchy.  A  Hanoverian 
tailor  with  improving  hand  shaped  the  Highland  plaid,  which  had 

(jOriginaHy  resembled  the  simple  drapery  of  the  Irish  kern>  into  a  garb 
iDf  complex  beauty  and  well  suited  for  fancy  balls.  The  power  of  the 
<shiefB  and  the  substance  of  the  clan  system  were  finally  swept  away* 
Ihongh  the  sentiment  lingers,  even  in  the  Transatlantic  abodes  of  tho 
clansmen,  and  is  pi-ized,  Uke  the  dress,  as  a  remnant  of  social  pic- 
tnresqneness  in  a  prosaic  and  levelling  age.  The  hills  and  lakes — at 
the  thought  of  which  even  Gibbon  shuddered — are  the  favourite 
retreats  of  the  luxury  which  seeks  in  ^vildness  refreshment  from  civili- 
ition.  After  Cullodcn,  Presbyterianism  effectually  made  its  way 
to  the  Highlands,  of  which  a  great  part  had  up  to  that  time  been 
Ittle  better  than  heathen  ;  but  it  did  not  fail  to  take  a  strong  tinge  of 
'eltic  enthusiasm  and  superstition. 
Of  all  the  lines  of  division  in  Great  Britaiu,  however,  the  most 



important  politically  has  been  that  which  ia  least  clearly  traced  b;^ 
hand  of  nature.  The  natural  barriers  between  England  and  Scotland 
wore  not  sufficient  to  prevent  the  extension  of  the  Saxon  settlements 
and  kingdoms  across  the  border.  In  the  name  of  the  Scotch  capital 
we  have  a  monument  of  a  imion  before  that  of  1603,  That  the 
Norman  Conquest  did  not  include  the  Saxons  of  the  Scotch  Low- 
lands w^aB  due  chiefly  to  the  menacing  attitude  of  Danish  pretenders, 
and  the  other  military  dangers  which  led  the  Conqueror  to  guard 
liimself  on  the  north  by  a  broad  belt  of  desolation.  Edward  L, 
in  attempting  to  extend  his  feudal  supremacy  over  Scotland,  may 
well  have  seemed  to  himself  to  have  been  acting  in  the  interest 
of  both  nations.  Union  would  have  put  an  end  to  border  war,  and  it 
w^ould  have  delivered  the  Scotch  in  the  Lowlands  from  the  extremity 
of  feudal  oppression,  and  the  rest  of  the  country  from  a  savage 
anarchy,  giving  them  in  place  of  those  curses  by  far  the  best  govern- 
ment of  the  time.  The  reeistance  came  partly  from  mere  barbarism, 
partly  from  Norman  adventurers,  Tvho  were  no  more  Scotch  than 
English,  whose  aims  were  purely  selfish,  and  who  would  gladly  have 
accepted  Scotland  as  a  vaseal  kingdom  from  Edwards  hand.  But 
the  annexation  would  no  doubt  have  formidably  increased  the  power 
of  the  Crown,  not  only  by  extending  its  dominions,  but  by  removing 
that  w^hich  was  a  support  often  of  aristocratic  anarchy  in  England, 
but  sometimes  of  rudimentary  freedom.  Had  the  w*hole  island  fallen 
under  one  victorious  eceptre,  the  next  wielder  of  that  sceptre,  under 
the  name  of  the  great  Edward  s  wittold  son,  ivould  have  been  Piers 
Gaveston*  But  what  no  prescience  on  the  part  of  any  one  in  the 
time  of  Edward  I.  could  possibly  have  foreseen  was  the  inestim- 
able benefit  which  disunion  and  even  anarchy  indirectly  conferred  on 
the  whole  island  in  the  shape  of  a  eeparate  Scotch  Kcformation. 
Divines,  when  they  have  exhausted  their  reasonings  about  the  rival 
forms  of  Church  government,  will  probably  find  that  the  argimient 
which  had  practically  most  effect  in  determining  the  question  was  that 
of  the  much  decried  but  in  his  way  sagacious  James  L,  **  No 
bishop,  no  king  I ''  In  England  the  Reformation  w^ae  semi-Cathohc  ; 
in  Sweden  it  was  Lutheran ;  but  in  both  countries  it  was  made  by 
the  kiiJgB,  and  in  both  Episcopacy  was  retahied.  Where  the  Reforma- 
tion was  the  work  of  the  people,  more  popular  forms  of  Church 
government  prevailed.  In  Scotland  the  monarchy,  always  weak,  was 
at  the  time  of  the  Reformation  practically  in  abeyance,  and  the 
master  of  the  movement  was  emphatically  a  man  of  the  people.  As 
to  the  nobles,  they  seem  to  have  thought  only  of  appropriating  the 
Church  lands,  and  to  have  been  willing  to  leave  to  the  nation  the 
spiritual  gratification  of  settling  its  own  religion.  Probably  they  also 
felt  with  regard  to  the  disinherited  proprietors  of  the  Church  lands 
that  **  stone  dead  had  no  fellow,"  The  result  was  a  democratic  and 
thoroughly  Protestant  Church,   which  drew  into   itself  tlie   highest 






les,  political  as  well  as  religiouB,  of  a  strong  and  grcat-hoarted 
people,  and  by  which  Laud  and  his  confederates,  when  they  had 
apparently  overcome  resistance  in  England,  were,  as  Milton  says,  **  more 
rohustionsly  bandied,"  If  the  Scotch  auxiliaries  (^lid  not  win  the 
decisive  battle  of  JIarston  Moor,  they  enabled  the  English  Parliament 
tarians  to  fight  and  win  it.  During  the  dark  days  of  the  Restoration 
Englif^h  refsistance  to  tyranny  was  Btrongly  supported  on  the  ecclesi- 
astical side  by  the  martyr  steadfastness  of  the  Scotch,  till  the  joint 
effort  triumphed  in  the  Revolution.  It  is  singular  and  sad  to  find 
Scotland  afterwards  becoming  one  vast  rotten  borougli^  managed  in 
the  time  of  Pitt  by  Dundas,  who  paid  the  boroughraongersby  appoint- 
ments in  India,  with  calamitous  consequences  to  the  poor  Hindoo. 
But  the  intensity  of  the  local  evil,  perhaps,  lent  force  to  the  revulsion, 
and  Scotland  has  ever  since  been  a  distinctly  Liberal  element  m 
British  politics,  and  seems  now  Hkely  to  lead  the  way  to  a  complete 
measure  of  religious  freedom. 

Nature,  to  a  gi^eat  extent,  fore-ordained  the  high  destiny  of  the 
larger  island ;  to  at  least  an  equal  extent  she  fore-ordained  the  sad 
destiny  of  the  smaller  island,  Irish  liistory,  studied  impartially,  is  a 
grand  lesson  in  pohtieal  charity ;  so  clear  is  it  that  in  these  deplorable 
annals  the  more  impoi-tant  pai-t  was  played  by  adverse  circumstance, 
the  less  important  by  the  nmlignity  of  man»  That  the  sti-onger  nation 
is  entitled  by  the  law  of  force  to  conquer  its  weaker  neighbour  and  to 
govern  the  conquered  in  it-s  own  interest  is  a  doctrine  w^hich  civilized 
morality  abhors.  But  in  the  days  before  civilized  morality,  in  the 
days  when  the  only  law  was  that  of  natural  selection,  to  ivhich  philo- 
sophy by  a  strange  comiter-revolution  seems  now  inchned  to  return, 
the  smaller  island  ^vas  almost  sure  to  be  conquered  by  the  possessors 
of  the  larger,  more  especially  as  the  smaller,  cut  off  from  the  Continent 
by  the  larger,  lay  completely  witliin  its  grasp.  The  map,  in  short, 
teDfl  ne  plainly  that  the  destiny  of  Ireland  was  subordinated  to  that  of 
Great  Britain.  At  the  same  time,  the  smaller  island  being  of  consider- 
able size  and  the  channel  of  considerable  breadth,  it  was  likely  that 
the  resistance  would  be  tough  and  the  conquest  slow.  The  unsettled 
fitate  of  Ireland,  and  the  half-nomad  condition  in  which  at  a  compara- 
tively late  period  its  tribes  remained,  would  also  help  to  protract  the 
bitter  process  of  euljjugation ;  and  these  again  were  the  inevitable 
ressulte  of  the  rainy  climate,  which,  while  it  clothed  the  island  vnth 
green  and  made  pasture  abundant,  forbade  the  cultivation  of  gimn, 
Ireland  and  Wales  alike  appear  to  have  been  the  scenes  of  a  precocious 
civilization,  merely  intellectual  and  literary  in  its  character,  and  closely 
connected  with  the  Chui*ch,  though  including  also  a  bardic  element 
derived  from  the  times  before  Cliristianity,  the  fruits  of  which  were 
poetry,  fantastic  law-making,  and  probably  the  germs  of  scholastic 
theology,  combined,  in  the  case  of  Ireland,  wdth  missionary  enterprise 
and  such  ecclesiastical  ai'chitecture  as  the  Round  Towers,    But  cities 



there  were  nonej  and  it  is  evident  tliat  the  native  Cliurch  %ntl 
culty  BUBtained  her  higher  life  amidst  the  influences  and  encroachments 
of  suTTOimding  barbarism.  The  Anglo-Norman  conquest  of  Ireland 
was  a  Biipplement  to  the  Norman  conquest  of  England ;  and,  Kke  the 
Norman  conquest  of  England,  it  was  a  rehgioiis  as  well  as  a  political 
enterprise.  As  Hildebrand  had  commissioned  William  to  bring  the 
national  Cliurch  of  England  into  complete  submission  to  the  See  of 
Borne,  so  Adrian,  by  the  Bull  which  is  the  stumbliiigblock  of  Irish 
Catholics,  granted  Ireland  to  Henry  upon  condition  of  his  reformmg, 
that  is,  Romanizing,  its  primitive  and  echismatic  Cliurch,  Ecclesiastical 
intrigue  had  already  been  worldng  in  the  same  direction,  and  had  in 
some  measure  prepared  the  w^ay  for  the  conqueror  by  disposing  the 
heads  of  the  Irish  clerg}^  to  receive  him  as  the  emancipator  of  the 
Clmrch  from  the  secular  oppression  and  imposts  of  the  chiefs.  But  in 
the  case  of  England,  a  settled  and  agricultural  country,  the  conquest 
was  complete  and  final  ;  the  conquerors  became  everywhere  a  new 
upper  class  which,  though  at  fii'st  ahen  and  oppressive,  became  in 
time  a  national  nobihty,  and  ultimately  blended  with  the  subject  race. 
Ill  the  case  of  Ireland,  though  the  septs  were  easily  defeated  by  the 
Norman  soldiery,  and  the  fonnal  submission  of  their  chiefs  was  easily 
extorted,  the  conquest  was  neither  complete  nor  final*  In  their  hills 
and  bogs  the  wandering  septs  easily  evaded  the  Norman  arms.  The 
Irish  Channel  was  ivide.  The  road  lay  through  North  Wales,  long 
imsxibdued,  and,  even  when  subdued,  mutinous,  and  presenting 
natural  obstacles  to  the  passage  of  heavy  troops.  The  centre  of 
Anglo-Norman  power  lay  far  away  in  the  south-east  of  England,  and 
the  force  of  the  monarchy  was  either  attracted  to  Continental  fields  or 
absorbed  by  struggles  with  baronial  factions.  Richard  II.,  coming  to 
a  throne  wdiich  had  been  strengthened  and  exalted  by  the  achieve- 
ments of  his  gi'andfather,  seems  in  one  of  his  moods  of  fitful  ambition 
to  have  conceived  the  design  of  completing  the  conquest  of  Ireland, 
and  he  passed  over  with  a  great  power ;  but  his  fate  showed  that  the 
arm  of  the  monarchy  was  still  too  shoi-t  to  reacli  the  dependency 
without  losing  hold  upon  the  imperial  country.  As  a  rule,  the  subju- 
gation of  Ireland  during  the  period  before  the  Tudors  was  La  effect 
left  to  private  enterprise,  which  of  course  confined  its  efforts  to  objects 
of  private  gain,  and  never  thought  of  midertaldug  the  systematic 
Bubjugation  of  native  fortresses  in  the  niterest  of  order  and  ci%dlization. 
Instead  of  a  national  aristocracy  the  result  was  a  mihtary  colony  or 
Pale,  l>etween  the  inhabitants  of  which  and  the  natives  raged  a  per- 
petual border  war,  as  savage  as  that  between  the  settlers  at  the  Cape 
and  the  Kaffirs,  or  that  between  the  American  frontier-man  and  the 
Red  Indian*  The  religious  quarrel  was  and  has  always  been  secon- 
dary in  impoii;ance  to  the  struggle  of  the  races  for  the  land.  In  the 
period  following  the  conquest  it  was  the  Pale  that  was  distinctively 
Romanist.     But  when  at  the  Reformation  the  Pale  became  Protestant, 





i]ie]iaim«.&inBaBti^;qBiflBiofi«ae,  bdoacie  oioi^  votettt^jF  CbtiioGo^ 
ju^  were  ds«wii  into  Ihe  league  of  Qilhofic  powera  en  Hht  C96iitiiMiit^ 
itt  wUck  tfi^  mfo«d  die  wml  &te  qT  die  diraif  who  gooe  to  bt^e 
witli  file  gkiit.  BjtliefllitiQsiiiiiiiAidijof  llie  TiidkmtiieoQB^^ 
oflrdaad  wm  ean^lelecl  witk  eireiUDBteiieea  of  cnielty  s«BciMl  to 
plez^  imdyiDg  hatred  in  the  bfCiiol  of  the  people*  But  the  eli^g^ 
for  AeluddidDOt  cffidthettei  inetettdof  diefonaof  oonquestit  took 
thai  of  oonfiKstioii,  and  was  waged  hy  the  intmder  with  the  anus  of 
l^al  eU^uie.  In  the  fann  of  eviction  it  has  hated  to  the  pteaeiit 
koar ;  and  eTictioa  in  Ireland  is  not  like  eviction  in  EngiUiid,  whend 
great  mannfacturin^  citieB  receive  and  employ  the  evieted ;  it  is  star- 
Tation  or  exile.  Into  exile  the  Lrish  people  have  gone  bj  milUous,  and 
tkiui»  though  neither  maritime  nor  by  natnre  colonisrtei*  they  have  bad 
a  great  abare  in  the  peopling  of  the  New  Wotld«  The  citiee  and  veJi^ 
roads  of  the  United  States  are  to  a  great  extent  the  monuments  of 
their  Iabonr«  In  the  political  sphere  they  have  retained  the  weakness 
prodooed  by  ages  of  political  serfage,  and  are  stiU  the  dAri^  of  broken 
dansv  with  little  about  them  of  the  genuine  republican,  apt  blindly  to 
fbllaw  the  leader  who  stands  to  them  as  a  chief,  while  they  are  iu- 
etinetivaly  hostile  to  law  and  govenimeut  as  their  immemorial  oppres- 
sors in  their  native  land.  British  Btatesmen,  when  they  had  conceded 
GathciUc  emancipation  and  afterwards  disestabliahincnt.  may  have 
fancied  that  they  had  removed  the  root  of  the  evil.  But  the  real  root 
was  not  touched  tUl  Parliament  took  up  the  question  of  Uie  land,  and 
effected  a  compromise  which  may  perhaps  have  to  be  again  revised 
before  complete  pacification  is  attained. 

In  another  way  geography  has  exercised  a  sinister  influenco  on  the 
fortnnes  of  Ireland,  Closely  approaching  Scotland^  the  northern  coast 
of  Ireland  in  course  of  time  invited  Scotch  immigration,  which  furmod 
as  it  were  a  Presbyterian  Pale.  If  the  antagonism  between  the  Eng^ 
ILsh  Episcopalian  and  the  Irish  Catholic  was  strong,  that  between  tlie 
Scotch  Presbyterian  and  the  Irish  Catholic  was  stronger.  To  the 
Cnglish  Episcopalian  the  Iiish  Catholic  was  a  barbarian  and  a 
Bomanist;  to  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  he  was  a  Canaanite  und  an 
idolater.  Nothing  in  history  is  more  hideous  than  the  conflict  in  tho 
North  of  Ireland  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  This  is  the  feud  which  has 
been  tenacious  enough  of  its  evU  life  to  propagate  itself  even  in  the 
New  World,  and  to  renew  in  the  streets  of  Canadian  cities  the  brutal 
m&d scandalous  conflicts  which  disgrace  Belfast.  On  the  other  hand, 
through  the  Scotch  colony,  the  larger  island  has  a  second  hold  upon 
the  smaller.  Of  all  political  projects  a  federal  miion  of  England  aud 
Ireland  with  separate  Parliaments  under  the  same  Crown  soems  the 
Biost  hopeless,  at  least  if  government  is  to  remain  parliamentary ;  it 
may  be  safely  said  that  the  normal  relation  between  the  two  P&rlia* 
ments  would  be  collision^  and  cullision  on  a  question  of  peace  or  war 
would  be  disruption.    But  an  independent  Ireland  would  be  a  foaable 



as  well  as  Batural  object  of  IiibL  aspiratioii  if  it  were  not  for  the 
strengtL,  moral  as  well  as  numerical,  of  the  two  intmeive  elements- 
How  could  the  Catholic  majority  be  reetrained  from  legislation  which 
the  Protestant  minority  would  deem  oppressive?  And  how  could  the 
Protestant  minority,  being  as  it  is  more  English  or  Scotch  than  Irish, 
be  restrained  from  Btretcliing  its  hancls  to  England  or  Scotland  for 
aid  ?  It  is  true  that  if  scepticism  continues  to  advance  at  its  present 
rate,  the  lines  of  religious  separation  may  be  obhterated  or  become  too 
faint  to  exercise  a  great  practical  influence,  and  the  bond  of  the  soil 
may  then  prevail.  But  the  feeling  against  England  w^hich  is  the 
strength  of  Irish  Nationalism  is  hkely  to  subside  at  the  same  time. 

Speculation  on  imfulfilled  contingeiicies  is  not  invariably  barren.  It 
is  interesting  at  all  events  to  consider  wdiat  would  have  been  the  con- 
sequences  to  the  people  of  the  two  islands,  and  to  humanity  genemlly, 
if  a  Saxon  England  and  a  Celtic  Ireland  had  been  allowed  to  grow  up 
and  develop  by  the  side  of  each  other  untouched  by  Norman  conquest. 
In  the  case  of  Ireland  we  should  have  been  spared  centuries  of  oppres- 
sion which  has  profoundly  reacted,  as  oppression  always  does^  on  the 
character  of  the  oppressor ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  Isle  of 
Saints  and  of  primitive  Universities  would  not  have  produced  some 
good  fruits  of  its  own.  In  the  Norman  conquest  of  England  historical 
optimism  sees  a  gi'eat  political  and  intellectual  blessing  beneath  the 
disguise  of  barbarous  havoc  and  alien  tyraimy.  The  Conquest  was  a 
continuation  of  the  process  of  migratory  invasions  by  which  the 
nations  of  modem  Europe  were  founded,  from  restless  ambition  and 
cupidity,  wiien  it  had  ceased  to  be  beneficent.  It  was  not  the  super- 
position of  one  primitive  element  of  population  on  another,  to  the 
idtimate  advantage,  possibly,  of  the  compound ;  but  the  destruction  of 
a  nationality,  the  nationaHty  of  Alfred  and  Harold,  of  Bede  and  iElfric. 
The  French  were  superior  in  military  organization ;  that  they  had 
superior  gifts  of  any  kind,  or  that  their  promise  was  higher  than  that 
of  the  native  English,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  prove.  The  language, 
we  are  tol<h  was  enriched  by  the  inti-usion  of  the  French  element.  If 
it  was  enriched  it  was  shattered ;  and  the  result  is  a  mixture  so  hetero- 
geneous as  to  be  hardly  available  for  the  purposes  of  exact  tliought, 
while  the  language  of  science  is  borrow^ed  from  the  Greek,  and  as 
regards  the  unlearned  mass  of  the  people  is  hardly  a  medium  of  thought 
at  all*  There  are  great  calamities  in  history,  though  theii-  effects  may 
in  time  be  worked  off^  and  they  may  be  attended  by  some  incidental 
good.  Perhaps  the  greatest  calamity  in  liistoiy  w^ere  the  wars  of 
Napoleon,  in  which  some  incidental  good  may  nevertheless  be  found. 

To  the  influences  of  geographical  position,  soil,  and  race  is  to  be 

added,  to  complete  the  account  of  the  physical  heritage,  the  influence 

of  climate.    But  in  the  case  of  the  British  Islands  we  must  speak  not 

j^of  climate,  but  of  chmates  ;  for  within  the  compass  of  one  small  realm 

are  cHmates  moist  and  comparatively  dry,  warm  and  cold,  bracing 


and  enervating,  the  results  of  special  luflaeucos  the  range  of  which  is 
Hmiled.  Civilized  man  to  a  great  extent  makes  a  climate  for  himself; 
his  life  ill  the  North  is  spent  mainly  iudoors,  where  artificial  heat 
replaces  the  sno.  The  idea  which  still  haunts  us,  that  formidable 
vigour  and  aptitude  for  conquest  are  the  appanage  of  Northern  races, 
18  a  survival  from  the  state  in  which  the  rigour  of  nature  selected  and 
hardened  the  destined  conquerors  of  the  Roman  Empire.  The  stoves 
of  St,  Petersburg  are  as  enervating  as  the  sun  of  Naples,  and  in  the 
etruggle  between  the  Northern  and  Southern  States  of  America  not 
the  least  vigorous  soldiers  were  those  %vho  came  from  Louidana.  In 
the  barbarous  state  the  action  of  a  Northern  climate  as  a  force  of 
natural  selection  must  be  tremendous*  The  most  important  of  the 
races  which  peopled  the  British  Islands  had  already  undergone  that 
action  in  their  original  abodes.  They  could,  however,  stiU  feel  the 
beneficent  influence  of  a  climate  on  the  whole  eminently  favourable 
to  health  and  to  activity ;  bracing,  yet  not  so  rigorous  as  to  kill  those 
tender  plants  of  humanity  which  often  bear  in  them  the  most  precious 
germs  of  civilization ;  neither  confining  the  inhabitant  too  much  to 
the  shelter  of  his  dwelling,  nor,  as  the  suns  of  the  South  are  apt  to  do, 
drawing  him  too  much  from  home.  The  climate  and  the  soil  together 
formed  a  good  school  for  the  character  of  the  young  natii>n,  as  they 
exacted  the  toil  of  the  husbandman  and  rewarded  it.  Of  the  varieties 
of  temperature  and  weather  within  the  islands  the  national  character 
etill  bears  the  impress,  though  in  a  degree  always  decreasing  as  the 
assimilating  agencies  of  civilization  make  their  way.  Irrespectively  of 
the  influence  of  special  employments,  and  perhaps  even  of  peculiarity 
of  racc^  mental  vigour,  independence,  and  reasomng  power  are  always 

L ascribed  to  the  people  of  the  North,     Variety,  in  this  as  in   other 
respects,  would   naturally  produce   a  balance  of  tendencies  in  the 
nation  conducive  to  moderation  and  evenness  of  progress. 



The  islands  are  now  the  centre  of  au  Empire  which  to  some  minds 

seems  more  important  than  the  islands  themselves.     An  Empire  it  is 

sailed,  but  the  name  is  really  applicable  only  to  India*     The  relation 

'  England  to  her  free  colonies  is  not  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term 
Tmperial ;  while  her  relation  to  such  dependencies  as  Gibraltar  and 
Malta  is  militiiiy  alone.  Colonisation  is  the  natural  and  entirely 
beneficent  result  of  general  causes,  obvious  enough  and  already 
mentioned,  including  the  power  of  self-government,  fostered  by  the 
circumstances  of  the  colonizing  country,  winch  made  the  character  and 
destiny  of  New  England  so  different  from  those  of  New  France. 
Equally  natural  was  the  choice  of  the  situation  for  the  original 
colonies  on  the  shore  of  the  New  World.  The  foundation  of  the 
Austi'alian  Colonies,  on  the  other  hand,  was  detei-mined  by  political 
accident,  compensation  for  the  loss  of  the  An:terican  Colonies  being 
sought  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe.     It  will  perhaps  be  thought 




hereafter  that  the  quarrel  with  New  England  was  calamitons  in  its 
consequences  as  well  as  in  itBelf,  Binceit  led  to  the  diversion  of  British 
emigration  from  America,  where  it  supplied  the  nece&Baiy  element  of 
guidance  and  control  to  a  democracy  of  mixed  but  not  uncongenial 
races,  to  Australia,  where,  as  there  must  be  a  Km  it  to  its  own  multi- 
plication, it  may  hereafter  have  to  struggle  for  masteiy'with  swarming 
multitudes  of  Chinese,  almost  as  incapable  of  incorporation  with  it  as 
the  negro.  India  and  the  other  conquered  dependencies  are  the  fruits 
of  strength  as  a  war  power  at  sea  combined  with  weakness  on  land. 
Though  not  so  generally  noticed^  the  second  of  these  two  factors  has 
not  been  less  operative  than  the  first.  Chatham  attacked  France  in 
her  distant  dependencies  when  be  had  failed  to  make  any  impression 
on  her  own  coasts.  Still  more  clearly  was  Cliatham's  son,  the  most 
incapable  of  war  ministers?,  driven  to  the  capture  of  sugar  islands  by 
his  inability  to  take  part,  otherwise  than  by  subsidies,  in  the  decisive 
struggle  on  the  Continental  fields.  This  may  desen^e  the  attention  of 
those  who  do  not  think  it  criminal  to  examine  the  poUcy  of  Empire. 
Outlying  paTVTiB  picked  up  by  a  feeble  chessplayer  merely  because  he 
could  not  mate  the  king  do  not  at  fii-st  sight  necessarily  commend 
themselves  as  invaluable  possessions.  Carthage  and  Venice  were 
merely  great  commercial  cities,  which,  when  they  entered  on  a  career 
of  conquestj  were  compelled  at  once  to  form  armies  of  mercenaries,  and 
to  incur  all  the  evil  consequences  by  wliich  the  employment  of  those 
vile  and  fatal  instruments  of  ambition  is  attended.  England  being,  not 
a  commercial  city,  but  a  nation,  and  a  nation  endowed  with  the 
highest  militaiy  qualities,  has  escaped  the  fell  necessity  except  in  the 
case  of  India;  and  India,  under  the  reign  of  the  Company,  and  even 
for  some  time  after  its  legal  annexation  to  the  Crown,  was  regarded 
and  treated  almost  as  a  realm  in  another  planet,  with  an  army,  a  poli- 
tical system,  and  a  morality  of  its  own.  But  now  it  appears  that  the 
wi'ongs  of  the  Hindoo  are  going  to  be  avenged,  as  the  wrongs  of  the 
conquered  have  often  been,  by  their  moral  effect  upon  the  conqueror. 
A  body  of  barbarian  mercenaries  lias  appeared  upon  the  European 
scene  as  an  integi^al  part  of  the  British  army,  while  the  reflex  influence 
of  Indian  Empire  upon  the  political  character  and  tendencies  of  the 
imperial  nation  is  too  manifest  to  be  any  longer  overlooked,  England 
now  stands  where  the  paths  divide,  the  one  leading  by  industrial  and 
commercial  progress  to  increase  of  political  liberty ;  the  other^  by  a 
career  of  eonquestj  to  the  political  results  in  which  such  a  career  has 
never  yet  failed  to  end.  At  present  the  influences  in  favour  of  taking 
the  path  of  conquest  seem  to  preponderate,  and  the  probabihty  seems 
to  be  that  the  leadership  of  pohtical  progress,  which  has  hitherto 
belonged  to  England  and  lias  constituted  the  special  interest  of  her 
history,  will,  in  the  near  future,  pass  into  other  hands. 

GoLDWiN  Sjcth. 


Part  n. 

N  the  preceding  paper  I  traced  the  progress  of  Indian  reUgious 
thought  through  ^^hat  may  be  called  its  three  principal  stages,  of 
bhfldhood,  manhood,  and  dotage. 

The  Hindu  religion,  be  it  obser\-ed,  has  no  one  prominent,  concrete 
impersonation.  It  might,  I  think,  not  unfairly  be  desciibed  as  the 
natural  religion  of  humanity  *  or  as  the  collective  outcome  of  man's 
devotional  instincts,  unguided  by  direct  revelation.  In  other  words, 
all  the  religious  ideas  which  the  human  mind  is  capable  of  elaborating 
for  itself  are  in  that  rehgion  collected  and  comprehended. 

It  is,  perhaps,  for  this  very  reason  that  Hindiiiem  has  no  one  centml 
personality  like  Christianity,  Buddhism,  and  Muhammadanism,  No 
one  person  was  its  special  founder.  No  one  typical  name  can  be 
specially  connected  with  either  its  first  rise  or  subsequent  develop- 
ment. But  the  gradual  corruption  of  religion  in  India  led  to  the 
springing  up  of  various  refonners  and  revivalist  leaders ;  and  to  some 
of  the  systems  establishetl  by  them  I  propose  now  to  invite  atten- 

Such  a  subject  opens  out  an  unbounded  field  of  inquiry.  I  can,  of 
bourse,  only  notice  briefly  a  few  of  the  pmcipal  sectarian  divisions 
IBS  originated.  And  at  the  outset  it  becomes  necessary  to  define* 
exactly  what  is  meant  by  the  expression  *'8ect."  The  term  is  some- 
tiraes  apphed  in  a  general  way  to  five  chief  classes  of  Indian  religionista, 
namely,  woiBhippers  (1)  of  Vislmu,  (2)  of  Siva,  (3)  of  their  consorts, 
the  divine  mothers  (s'alii),  (4)  of  the  Sun,  and  (5)  of  the  lord  of 
Slva*«  demon  hosts  (Gana-pati  or  Ganes'a).  But  the  worship  of  the 
first  three  of  these — to  mt,  of  Vishnu,  S'iva,  and  the  divine  mothers 
^-constitutes,  os  we  have  endeavoured  to  show,  the  very  pith  and 
marrow  of  ordinaiy  Hinduism,     We  must  also  bear  in  mind  that  Sun- 

C  2 





worship  (originally  another  form  of  Yishnii-worBliip)  is  still  oniversal 
tbruiiglioiit  India;  while  adoration  of  the  lord  of  mischioYOUs  and 
destructiYC  demons  is  equally  general,  and  falls  under  R  ai\nsm. 

Evidently,  therefore,  it  mnet  lead  to  confusion  of  thoxight  if  the 
five  principal  constituents  of  Hindu  belief  are  regarded  as  sectarian* 
It  is  true  that  the  worshippers  of  Vishnu,  of  S'iva,  and  of  the  divine 
mothers  oflTend  against  oiihodoxy  when  they  exalt  any  one  of  these 
to  the  position  of  the  Supreme  Being  instead  of  giving  tliem  a 
secondaiy  place  as  mere  manifestations  of  Brahma.  It  may  be  said, 
too,  that  all  true  Vaishnavas,  S'aivas,  and  S'aktas  do  this.  Yet  it  will 
be  better,  I  think,  to  employ  the  term  "  sect "  to  designate  the  fol- 
lowers of  particular  teachers  within  the  general  pale  of  Hinduism. 
The  traditionary  doctrine  promulgated  by  such  teachers  and  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation  is  called  Sampradaya. 

Of  course  it  is  a  mere  trite  observation  that  a  tendency  to  break  up 
into  sects  has  characterized  all  religious  systems  throughout  the 
world  from  the  earliest  times.  The  Hindu  religion  has  always  been 
peculiarly  exposed  to  di™ions  of  this  kind,  which  from  one  point  of 
view  are  certainly  sources  of  weakness.  It  is  common,  indeed,  to  hear 
it  asserted  that  Hinduism  is  fast  disappearing.  The  usual  reason  given 
for  the  doom  supposed  to  be  impending  over  its  future  is,  that  it  is  not 
a  proselyting  religion.  And  it  must  be  admitted  that  pure  Brillnuanism 
neither  makes  nor  accepts  proselytes.  No  power  can  convert  a  roan 
into  a  Brilhman.  Nor  can  any  one,  in  theoiy,  bo  admitted  as  a  convert 
to  the  Hindu  religion.  The  only  acknowledged  mode  of  admission  is 
by  birth.     To  become  a  Hindu  one  must  be  born  a  Hindu. 

Yet  Hinduism  is  continually  growing  within  itself.  In  its  tenacity 
of  life  and  power  of  expansion,  it  may  be  compared  to  the  sacred 
fig-tree  of  India,  whose  thousand  ramiScations,  often  issuing  from 
apparently  lifeless  stems,  find  their  way  into  walls,  undermine  old 
buildings,  or  themselves  take  root  and  form  fresh  centres  of  growth 
and  vitahty.  It  admits,  in  fact,  of  every  form  of  internal  growth  and 
development.  It  has  no  organized  hierarchy  under  one  supreme 
head,  but  it  has  an  infinite  number  of  separate  associations  of  priests, 
who  band  themselves  together  for  the  extension  of  spiritual  supremacy 
over  ever-increasing  masses  of  the  population.  It  has  no  one  formal 
confession  of  faith,  but  it  has  an  elastic  paiithciBtic  creed  capable  of 
adaptation  to  all  varieties  of  opinion  and  practice.  It  has  no  one 
bible — no  one  collection  of  writings  in  one  compact  volume,  like  our 
own  Holy  Bible,  with  lines  of  teaching  converging  towards  one  great 
central  truth  ;  but  it  has  a  long  series  of  sacred  books,  some  of  which 
profess  to  be  direct  revelations  from  the  Supreme  Being,  and  each  of 
which  may  be  used  independently  as  an  authority  for  the  establishment 
of  any  kind  of  doctrine,  deistic,  theistic,  polytheistic,  or  pantheistic. 

Nay,  it  is  quite  possible,  and  by  no  means  unusual,  for  any  bold 
adherent  of  Hinduism  to  proclaim  himself,  and  even  believe  himself  to 




t)e,  an  incarnation  of  the  deity — I  mean,  of  course,  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  term  acatiJrOt*  a  descent  of  a  portion  of  the  divine  essence* 

Not  long  since,  during  my  second  visit  to  Gujarut,  a  man  named 
Kuvera  (xTilgarly  Ruber)  was  living  iu  a  village  called  Sarasa  (Sai-sii) 
near  Anand  on  the  Bombay  and  Baroda  Railway.     He  is  of  the  Koli 
caste  and  very  old  (if  still  alive).    As  a  youth  he  was  remarkable  for 
mther  more  than  ordinary  energy  of  mind  and  much  siugularity  of 
libaracten     One  day,  after  a  long  course  of  introspection  and  abstract 
meditation^  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  announce  that  a  portion  of  tho 
Supreme  Being  had  descended  in  his  person.     His  next  idea  was  to 
proclaim  that  he  had  a  direct  mission  from  God  to  make  a  new  reve- 
lation of  the  truth.     Very  soon  he  attracted  a  number  of  admiring 
hearers,  who  in  due  course  of  time  proceeded  to  worship  him,  and 
present  him  with  daily  offerings.     His  followers,  who  call  themselves 
Hari-jana  and  are  known  by  the  name  of  Kuber-bhaktas,  now  amount 
to  about  twenty  thousand.     They  are  regularly  divided  iiito  clergy 
(siulhu)  and  laity  (grikastha).  The  former  either  itinerate  as  missionaries, 
or  preside  over  the  temples  of  the  sect,  many  of  which  are  found  in 
tbe  villages  around  Nerifid  in  Gujarat.     Each  temple  has  two  teachers 
who  every  day  collect  a  certain  number  of  disciples  and  read  to  them 
extracts  from  the  Puranas  or  other  writings  prescribed  by  their  leader. 
The  doctrine  they  inculcate  is,    I  believe,   a  purified  form   of  the 
Vaishnava  creed. 

Again,  it  has  often  happened  that  saints,  sages,  and  poets,  who 
have  themselves  laid  no  claim  to  divine  inspiration  during  their  own 
lifetime,  have  been  worshipped  after  death  as  iacarnations  of  one  of 
the  deities  by  their  followers,  A  celebrated  Bmhmanical  ascetic 
named  Dattatreya — ^supposed  by  some  to  have  lived  in  Central  India 
about  the  tenth  century  of  our  era^ — is  believed  to  have  been  a  mani- 
festation of  the  Hindu  trinity  in  human  form.  Portions  of  the  essences 
of  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  S'iva  are  alleged  to  have  united  for  the  pur- 
pose of  descending  in  his  person.f  Many  temples  dedicated  to  his 
honour  are  scattered  over  the  Maratha  country,  I  saw  one  much  fre- 
quented by  pilgrims  at  Waie,  tm  the  way  to  Mahabales'var.  It  con- 
tained the  image  of  a  man  with  three  heads.  Many  persons  were 
worshipping  with  apparent  earnestness  at  the  shrine. 

Other  bodies  of  schismatics  exist  who  are  unable  to  hold  together 
BB  a  distinct  sect  for  any  considerable  time  after  the  death  of  their 
leaders,     I  saw  the  shrine  of  a  man  named  Parioama  at  Kaira.     It 


■*  This  kind  of  haUucination,  however,  it  not  eonfinod  to  tli©  inhabitants  of  Asia,  In 
the  Timu  of  Aognst  the  24th  and  27th  there  ia  a  curioua  account  of  a  man  named  David 
lAsxaretti,  lately  killed  in  an  encounter  with  the  Italian  police.  He  lived  in  Tuflcany« 
and  waa  called  by  his  foUoweiB  "  David  the  Saint/'  This  man  gave  himself  out  to  be  a 
new  Christy  deeoemded  upon  eartli.  He  chose  twelve  apoetlea,  and  surrounded  himMrff 
by  a  large  number  of  disciples,  who  built  for  him  a  kind  of  half-hermitage^  half -church, 
<m  the  summit  of  Monte  I^bro.    HU  followers  ore  called  Lazzarist^u 

t  Tlie  laigte  DattAtr^ya  ia  often  mentioned  in  Sanskrit  writings*  Some  aoooimt  of 
the  stories  connected  with  him  wiU  be  found  in  Dr.  BCuir's  texts. 



contained  no  image,  but  simply  Mb  qouch  or  seat,  and  portions  of  liis 
vestments.  Only  a  few  hundred  of  his  followers  remain,  and  these 
are  gradually  being  reabsorbed  into  the  vortex  of  Hinduism.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  disciples  of  a  man  named  Hari-kiishna,  whe 
was  accredited  with  great  sanctity  of  character,  and  died  not  long  ago 
in  Gujarat.  lie  was  known  to  have  attracted  a  large  number  of  ad- 
herents during  his  lifetime,  but  I  conld  find  no  traces  of  them  iu  the 
places  I  visited. 

In  fact,  any  new  doctrine,  or  new  view  of  old  doctrines,  may  be  in 
this  way  promulgated  by  any  man  of  originality  and  abihty,  with  an 
almost  certain  prospect  of  success.  Such  men,  are,  of  course,  not 
common  in  India.  Few  in  that  country  venture  to  leave  the  beaten 
path.  Few  think  for  themselves.  Old  creeds,  old  customs,  and  old 
thoughts  exert  a  despotic  sway.  Men  only  act  in  castes,  classes,  or 
corporate  communities.  Yet  they  show"  little  desire  for  national  union. 
Patriotic  combmation  is  as  rare  as  individuality  of  character,  Xor 
is  the  standard  of  intellectual  acti%^ity  generally  high.  The  masses  of 
the  population  present  a  dead  level  of  mental  stagnation  and  in- 
difference. Only  one  subject  has  power  to  rouse  them  from  their 
normal  condition  of  serene  apathy.     That  subject  is  religion, 

liehgion  of  some  kind  is  ever  present  to  a  Hindu's  mind.  It  colours 
all  hiB  ideas.  It  runs  through  every  fibre  of  his  being.  It  is  the  very 
Alpha  and  Omega  of  his  whole  earthly  career.  It  attends  him  in 
antenatal  ceremonies  even  before  birth,  and  foUows  him  in  endless 
offerings  for  the  good  of  his  soul  long  after  death.  Let  any  one  appear 
as  an  earnest  preacher  of  religion  in  any  assembly  of  ordinary  Hindus 
— let  him  even  denounce  old  creeds,  however  venerated,  and  he  is 
sure  of  a  hearing.  And  if  to  his  other  qualifications  as  a  reUgious 
teacher  he  adds  a  character  for  self-denial  and  asceticism  he  cannot 
fail  to  attract  disciples.  Nowhere  in  the  world  are  family  ties  so 
indvcrsally  binding,  but  nowhere  is  such  homage  paid  to  their 
abandonment.  The  influence  of  any  new  rehgious  leader  (dcJu7rt/a) 
who  is  known  to  live  a  life  of  abstinence,  bochly  mortification,  and 
suppression  of  the  passions,  is  sure  to  become  unboimded,  either  for 
good  or  evih 

Probably,  during  the  leaders  lifetime  ho  is  able  to  restramthc  enthu- 
Biasm  of  his  converts  within  reasonable  limits.  It  is  only  when  he  ihes 
that  they  are  apt  to  push  his  opinions  to  extremes  never  intended  by 
himself.  Eventually  they  develop  his  teaching  into  an  overgrown  im- 
healthy  system,  the  internal  rottenness  of  which  disgustjs  all  sensible 
thinking  men,  even  among  its  own  adherents.  Then  some  new  teaeht^r 
arises  to  re-establiBh  purity  of  doctrhie.  He  is,  of  course,  in  his  turn  a 
man  of  earnestness  and  energ}%  \nth  a  strong  will  and  great  powers 
of  persuasion.  He  collects  around  him  with  equal  facility  a  number 
of  followers,  and  these  in  their  turn  carry  his  teaching  to  preposterous 


of  Hinduism  is  one  of  peq^etual 

reTivalt  coflafMO  and  fMorenr.  Its  fluetiiatioujs  may  W  oump«rt'd  to 
tfaose  of  m  Taat  oeeaa  lieaTuig  this  way  mnd  that  in  continiud  fliue  mid 
II  is  tnie,  of  eomse^  that  uo  human  s^flem  am  iocMiipt  from 
iitgouitionB.>  But  in  India  every  tendency  of  knmaiii^  oeems 
and  exaggetalad.  Ko  conntn*  in  the  Kvorld  is  ao  conaei^ 
xwSkFB  in  its  cMtonis  and  txadttiooa.    Yet  uo  >  \ihB  had  ao  many 

pons  reTiralB^  and  revivalist  preachers — -  v  reUgious  refbr- 

t  and  lef onneia. 

Tbafiial  and  most  importaiit  of  sach  reformatiotia  was  that  oom* 
monly  called  Boddhism,  which  took  place,  as  most  people  know,  about 
five  oentnriea  B.C.  The  Brahmaos  had  carried  their  sacerdotahsm  aud 
to  an  extrav:igant  pitch.  They  had  onmbered  their  whole 
^stem  with  an  intolerable  burden  of  caste  observaacee  and 
social  prohibitions.    A  reaction  was  inevitable. 

Th^  great  leader  and  instigator  of  the  Duddhist  reaction  was  the 
well4Qiowii  Gautama  of  the  S'akya  *  tribe,  whose  father  wa«  kiug  of 
the  di^rict  round  Kapilavastn*^ — a  town  situated  under  the  mountains 
c{  Nepil  about  one  hundred  and  fil'ty  miles  uorth-east  of  Pntna*  The 
history  of  Buddhism  is  now  a  hackneyed  subject.  Yet  the  true  character 
of  Gautama's  reforming  movement  is  scarcely  yet  well  uudenstood*  His 
biography,  as  might  be  expected^  is  overlaid  with  f^^nsational  legt^nds, 
some  of  which,  no  donbt,  rest  on  a  ba^iB  of  fact.  The  most  noteworthy 
points  are  that,  soon  after  his  marriage  and  the  birth  of  a  sou,  he  is  said 
to  have  become  impressed  with  the  vanity  of  all  Unman  aims  and  ocvw- 
pations;  that  he  decided  on  devoting  himself  to  Belf-mortilicatiuu  and 
philosophy  in  the  hope  of  acquiring  perfect  knowledge;  that  ho  tore 
himself  away  from  his  wife  and  child,  and  from  all  other  domestic  ties, 
and  from  all  prospect  of  advancement  in  the  world ;  that  he  withdrew 
to  the  forests,  and  continued  practising  severe  bodily  mortification  for 
fdx  years ;  that  when  wasted  and  debilitattd  by  long  fa^tirig  he  »at 
down  to  meditate  under  a  Plpal  tree ;  t  that  there  he  was  asHaiknl  by 
the  great  Spirit  of  Evil  and  by  all  the  powers  of  darkness,  who  tempted 
him  to  renounce  his  fixed  resolution,  and  held  out  t+>  him  the  proBpect 
of  complete  deliverance  from  all  suQeiing  of  mind  and  body  if  ho 
would  consent  to  return  to  the  pleasures  and  glories  of  the  world. 
Tlie  Buddha  is  said  to  have  wrestk^d  long  and  manfully  in  agonizing 
conflict  with  his  spiritual  foe,  and  for  a  loug  thue  the  i*(8ue  of  the 

*  Thk  tribe  wu  poolkly  of  aborigiiiAl  erinfttioQ.  It  is  eerUunlj  reuu^rkftUk'  tiuit  the 
taiAfiCS  of  Buddhft  generallj  represe^nt  Mm  with  feattires  and  blir  of  on  Eg^pliiin  or 
Stfttiopmti  type,  aod  with  Uie  curly  Imir  of  a  No^o.  I  BtiB  think  that  tho  fu«tiirei  of 
caftun  aborigmes  in  India  suggest  a  Negri  tic  origin^  PfofeMor  lliijd«y'»  ntomrkA  at  tli» 
ImI  aaectin^  of  the  British  JLsaociation  notwithstanding. 

f  He  is  supposed  to  hare  meditat^^  undci*  a  Flpol.tree  nc&r  0«|i«  at  n  pUcMj  oalkKl 
Bod3i4JS«ja,  until  this  highest  knowledge  was  attained.  The  tros  is  famniftrfy  ailod  thu 
Bo  tree  (for  h^dki-vrikiha),  and  is  as  sacred  a  sjmbol  with  th«'  Hoddhists  as  the  Cross 
im  with  Chiistians.  (See  Mr.  Bhyn  Daiitf  Buddhism,  puhliahed  hf  tho  tfocitt^  for 
PCTsftting  Christian  Knowledge,)    I  Tisited  the  place  in  th#  beginning  cl  1976. 


Btmggle  appeared  to  be  doubtfiiL  At  length  hiB  Btrength  seemed 
to  be  giving  way.  All  was  on  the  point  of  being  lost.  But  at  that 
Bupreme  moment  liis  indomitable  mil  triumphed^  and  the  light  of  true 
knowledge  burst  npon  his  mind* 

From  that  time  forward  he  became  a  new  man,  Self-disciphne  had 
done  its  work.  He  had  at  last  attained  to  perfect  knowledge.  He 
had  grasped  the  four  trntlis :  tiiat  all  existence  involves  suffering, 
that  all  BuflTering  is  caused  by  desire,  that  relief  from  desire  and  suffer- 
ing is  only  effected  by  extinction  of  existence,  and  that  extinction  of 
existence  is  only  effected  by  following  the  middle  path,  which  consists 
in  right  mental  vision^  right  thoughts,  right  words,  right  actions,  right 
means  of  h\dng,  right  application,  right  m  emory,  ri  ght  meditation .  The 
day  on  which  this  remarkable  straggle  terminated  was  the  birthday  tif 
Buddhism.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  Gautama  assume  the  title  of 
Buddha,  **  the  Enlightened,"  But  in  the  humiUty  of  mind  which  was 
one  of  liis  chief  charactenBtice,  he  always  declared  that  Buddhahoud 
had  been  attained  by  many  others  before  himself,  and  would  be  attain- 
able by  many  othei-s  after  himself. 

The  early  history  of  Buddha  has  many  points  of  resemblance  to  that 
of  Muhannnad.  Their  characters  and  aims  had  much  in  conmion. 
The  Buddha,  Hke  Muhammad,  mistook  his  oivn  ecstatic  visions^ 
brought  on  by  long  abstmence,  for  supeniatural  revelations.  Like 
Muhammad,  he  began  by  being  a  sincere  believer  in  himself,  and  in  the 
reality  of  his  own  mission,  and  hke  Muhammad  he  never  claimed  to  be  the 
founder  of  a  new  religion.  Of  course  the  parallel  cannot  be  continued. 
Buddhism  mu8t  be  read  in  the  hght  of  the  system  whence  it  sprang. 
In  its  first  origin  it  was  a  simple  reconstruction  and  remodelling  of 
Brrdimani-sni  on  what  the  Buddha  conceived  to  be  its  true  lines.  It 
was  nu  violently  antagonistic  system.  The  attahiment  of  perfect 
knowledge  was  equally  the  aim  of  both  the  Brahmans  and  the 

For  the  better  accompliBhrnent  of  tliis  object  the  Brahmans,  like  the 
Buddha,  attached  great  weight  to  self-mortification,*  temperance, 
abstinence  from  animal  food,  avoidance  of  injury  to  all  living  things, 
and  abstract  mcchtation,  Furthennore,  like  the  Buddha^  they  asserted 
that  every  man  must  suffer  for  his  own  acts  through  innumerable 

But  the  Buddha  ui  much  of  his  teaching  was  a  most  uncom- 
promising Beformer  and  Dissenter.  He  allowed  no  animal  to  be 
killed,  even  for  religious  purposes.  He  rejected  all  sacrifices,  sacri- 
ficing priests^  and  caste-distinctions.  He  repudiated  the  authority  of 
the  Yeda,  and  acknowledged  no  infallible  guide.  In  some  respects 
his  teaching  was  a  decided  descent  from  Brahmaniem.  He  denied 
the  eternal  existence  of  the  human  soul.     He  maintained  that  the 

*  TKe  Buddha,  liowerer,  taught  that  there  was  no  actual  iDerit  in  self-mortificationj 
It  was  merely  ihfi  moet  effective  method  qI  attaming  the  desired  end. 




only  positive  deity  was  man  himself,  when  brought  to  a  condition  of 
Biiddhahood  or  perfect  enlightenment,  and  he  made  extinction 
(ntfnfna)  of  all  individual  being  take  the  place  of  identifieatioa 
(ifiptjtfa)  with  the  One  Sole  Being  of  the  universe,  as  the  great  end  of 
all  human  effort. 

In  one  other  matter  a  difference  arose  between  Bmhmanism  and 
BuddluBm.  The  former  insisted  on  the  duty  of  wtirBhipping  the  spirits 
of  departed  relatives,  while  it  held  material  relics  or  remains  of  the 
dead  to  be  impure.  Buddhism,  on  the  other  hand,  forbade  all  ndoratioo 
of  departed  spirits,  while  it  encouraged  veneration  of  the  relics  and 
remains  of  deceased  persons. 

It  is  remarkable  that  Buddhism,  as  a  protesting  antagonistic  system, 
should  have  co-existed  w^tli  Bmhmanism  for  more  than  a  thousand 
years,  and  still  more  remarkable  that  it  should  have  met  with  littlo 
persecution,  except  in  certain  strongholds  of  the  ancient  faith,*  Yet, 
after  all,  it  could  not  in  the  end  escape  the  usual  fate  of  othtr 
reforming  movements  which  aim  at  the  puriScation  of  corruptions, 
and  the  rectification  of  abuses.  Its  influence  weakened  more  and 
more,  as  the  impulse  it  received  from  its  great  leader  grew  fainter 
with  the  lapse  of  years.  The  deteriorating  tendencies  inberent  in 
[t|^erything  human  were  at  last  too  strong  for  it.  The  old  inveterate 
propensities  gradually  regained  their  hold  on  men's  minds.  Sacerdo- 
talifim^  priestcraft,  and  every  form  of  aupemtition  were  too  firmly 
eatablished  on  Indian  soil  to  be  driven  entirely  off  the  field,  Brahmanism 
in  the  end  reasserted  its  supremacy. 

Nor  did  Bmhmaniem,  except  in  certain  isolated  instances,  declare  a 
war  of  extermination  against  the  Buddliistic  system.  It  rather  sidled 
np  insidiously  to  its  rival,  and  drew  the  heat  out  of  its  body  by 
close  contact,  and  even  by  actual  embraces.  Buddhism  pined  away 
and  died  in  the  very  arms  of  Brahmanism.  Brahmanism  was  its  birth- 
place, and  Brahmanism  became  its  grave. 

Yet  Buddhism  never  really  died.  Its  name  perished  in  India,  but 
its  spirit  survived ;  and  that,  too,  not  only  in  the  kindred  system 
Jainism  (which  contrived  to  maintain  its  ground,  though  never  com- 
mending  itself  to  large  masses  of  the  people),  but  in  the  very  Bruh- 
manism  into  which  it  became  merged.  It  was,  mdeed,  to  its  power  of  co- 
existing with  pre-existing  religious  creeds,  that  Buddhism  owed  its 
actual  permanence  for  so  longaperiod  in  India,  anditspresent  prevalence 
among  nearly  five  hundred  millions  of  the  human  race^  Everywhere 
in  India,  Ceylon,  and  Bunnah,  and  in  Qvery  other  country  to  which  it 
epread,  it  became  associated  and  interpenetrated  with  local  cults  and 
superstitions.  In  China  it  is  still  held  in  conjunction  wdth  at  least  two 
other  ej^stems.  Nor  is  this  peculiarity  in  its  character  difficult  of 

*  In  Uie  cloister  wbich  sunoundE  the  S^aira  temple  ol  Tanjore  I  observed  &  remark- 
mWe  picttxre  of  some  BuddMst'S  undergoing  the  punishment  of  impairment. 


Buddhism  had  no  rigid  religious  system  of  its  own  to  oppose  to 
that  of  others*  It  was  rather  the  expression  of  a  desire  to  be  set  free 
from  all  religious  dogmas,  forms,  and  ohserv^ances.  It  was  the  natural 
expression  of  man's  craving  after  the  attainment  of  perfect  knowledge 
and  perfect  righteousness  by  his  own  unassisted  effoiia.  Its  only 
worship  was  reverence  for  the  memory  of  an  alleged  perfect  sago  ;  its 
only  prayer  the  adoration  of  liis  rehcs;  its  only  praise  the  glorification 
of  his  excellence  j  its  only  ritual  the  presentation  of  flowers  before  his 
images :  its  only  aim  dehveranoe  from  the  troubles  of  life  by  the  same 
absolute  extiiictioo  whicli  lie^the  perfect  Buddha — had  achieved. 
But  on  this  very  account  Buddhism  was  indifferent  to  the  influence 
exercised  by  other  systems.  Its  followers  wore  even  wiUing  to  pay  a 
kind  of  homage  to  the  Hindu  gods  as  to  powerful  beings  who  were  able 
to  deliver  them  from  the  malignity  of  evil  demons.  Brahmanifim, 
too,  was  as  tolerant  of  Buddliistic  free-thinkers  as  it  was  of  its  own 
sceptical  philosophers. 

Hence  Bifihiiianism  was  easily  infected  and,  so  to  speak,  adulterated 
with  Buddhism,  and  Buddhism  with  Bralimaidsm,  Not  that  any 
really  strict  Brahmans  acquiesced  in  this  process  of  mutual  aesimila- 
tion.  Two  eminent  South  Indian  controversialists,  Kumtirila  and 
S'ankara,  who  succeeded  one  another  about  the  seveutli  aud  eighth  cen- 
turies of  our  era^  were  well-known  denouncers  of  Buddhistic  ideas. 
Kumurila  was  the  upholder  of  S^rauta-karniati,  or  the  observance  of 
Vedic  ritual  and  sacrifices.  S'ankara  was  the  advocate  of  Judna,  or 
tmo  knowledge,  and  abstract  meditation  as  the  pathway  to  salvation. 
Both  Kumarila  and  S'ankara  were  the  avowed  enemies  of  all  com- 
pronuse  with  Buddhistic  ideas. 

Yet  S'ankara  himself — the  great  Veduntist  and  bitter  opponent  of 
Buddhism — was  in  some  respects  half  a  Buddhist.  He  magnified  self- 
mortification  as  the  road  to  true  knowledge,  and  he  hi  voluntarily 
derived  much  of  his  own  asceticism  from  Gaiitaioas  example. 
Fuiihermoro  his  philosophical  teaching,  like  that  of  Gautama,  tended 
to  make  light  of  devotion  to  particular  gods.  If  the  knowledge  of 
the  identity  of  the  whole  universe  with  God  was  the  one  thing 
needful,  devotion  to  Vishnu  became  useless,  and  faith  as  an  element 
of  religion  was  hkely  to  disappear. 

It  is  probable,  too,  that  for  many  centuries  after  the  death  of 
S'ankara,  liis  followers — though  they  called  themselves  Smartas,  or 
orthodox  adherents  of  the  Bruhmanical  system- — really  exhibited  a 
certain  amount  of  sympathy  with  the  Buddha  and  his  dactrincs. 
One  proof  of  this  is  that  they  often  converted  the  images  of  Gautama 
into  representations  of  their  own  model  ascetic— the  god  S'iva. 
It  is  even  probable  that  Tantrism,  or  the  worship  of  the  female 
piineiple  identified  with  S  iva's  consort,  had  common  ground  with 
Buddhism,  Possibly  its  doctrine  of  Prakriti  had  in  it  something  which 
harmonized  with  the  Buddhist  theory  of  the  origin  of  the  universe. 




It  had  at  least  one  point  of  contact  in  its  rejection  of  caste-distinc- 
tions. It  is  said  that  evidenoe  exists  of  its  having  actuallj  associated 
itself  with  Buddhism  in  certain  districts. 

This  interaction  between  Bnihinaaism,  S'iva-wor8hip>  S'akti-wor- 
ship,  and  Buddhism,  might  have  imperilled  the  existence  of  Hinduism 
as  a  distinct  rellgiouB  system,  had  it  not  led  to  a  strong  coimteracting 
moTement  in  favour  of  Yaiehnavism.  A  new  teacher  named  S'aiidiija 
aroee^  who  insisted  on  faith  {hhakti)  as  the  most  effectual  means  of 
salvation/  This  was  a  development  of  the  doctrine  of  devotion 
(y^pasand)  already  inculcated  in  portions  of  the  Brahmanas  and 
Upanishads.  It  was  the  expansion  of  a  principle  which  had  existed  in 
Hinduism  from  the  earliest  times.  But  towards  whom  was  this  faith 
and  devotion  to  be  exhibited?  S'iva  was  the  god  of  destruction  and 
reproduction,  the  lord  of  demoniacal  agencies,  the  great  ascetic,  the 
perfect  contemplative  sage,  philosopher,  and  grammarian.  In  all 
these  charactei-s  he  could  have  earnest  votaries.  But  in  none  of  them 
could  he  be  the  popular  object  of  feith  and  love. 

The  only  god  whose  character  was  capable  of  engaging  the 
affections  of  the  people  was  the  god  who  interested  himself  most  in 
their  affairs — who  condescended  to  take  the  form  of  men  and  even  of 
animals,  tliat  he  might  deUver  men  and  even  atiimak  from  the  power 
of  evil,  and  from  the  destructive  agencies  by  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded. Tliis  was  the  god  Vislinu — the  god  who  was  originally  a  form 
of  the  Sun,  and  whose  incarnations  became  afterwards  the  theme  of  tho 
Pumnas.  The  worship  of  such  a  god  had  attractions  for  aU  rehgious 
men — even  for  the  followers  of  true  Bnihmanism  and  the  adherents  of 
other  systems.  It  was  of  the  very  essence  of  Vaishnavism  that  it 
could,  like  Buddhism,  accommodate  itself  to  other  creeds,  and  to  none 
more  than  to  Buddhism  itself.  It  could  advocate  nnivei-eal  toleration, 
benevolence,  and  abstinence  from  injury.  It  could  preach  equality, 
fraternity^  and  the  abolition  of  caste-distinctions.  It  could  proclaim 
Buddha  or  any  other  great  man  to  be  an  incarnation  of  Vishnu,  It 
had  even  common  ground  with  S'aivism  in  its  adoration  of  the  repro- 
ductive principle  of  nature.  No  wonder  then  that  the  worship  of 
Vishnu  became  the  popular  worship  of  India,  No  wonder  that  it 
continues  to  this  day  the  great  conservativo  element  of  Hiodriisin. 

One  curious  effect  of  the  growth  of  Vaishnavism  has  been  that  the 
working  of  the  law  of  antagonism  which  once  had  full  play  in  the 
opposition  between  Brahraans,  Buddhists,  S  aivas,  and  Vaishnavas  is 
now  principally  displayed  within  the  pale  of  Vaishna^nsm,  S'aivas, 
and  Vaishnavas  are  reciprocally  tolerant.  But  the  Vaishnavas  them- 
seh^es  are  spht  into  sects  and  subsects  which  oppose  each  other  with 
bitter  animosity.     Probably  antagonism  of  this  kind  is  a  necessary 

•  His  aphorisms  have  just  been  tranakted  by  Professor  E.  B.  CoweU,  and  publiahed 
for  \h^  Blblioiheca  Indica  by  Messrs.  Triibuer  Sl  Co.  They  ba¥c  an  important  bearing 
cm  tlie  preMQt  oondition  of  Hinduism. 


condition  of  vigorous  vitality,  and  in  all  likelihood  Vaisbnavisra  owea^ 
its  continued  activity  to  its  own  internal  contentions. 

A  great  many  eects  of  YaiRhnavas  might  be  enumerated,     I  have' 
only  space  in  the  present  paper  to  sketch  roughly  the  distinctive 
features  of  three  of  the  most  important,  nanaely  ;  (1),  that  founded  by 
Rninanuja ;  (2),  by  Madhva  ;  (3),  by  Vallabha.     But  the  outline  I  pre 
pose  giving  of  the  third  will  involve  a  brief  account  of  one  minorl 
modem  sect,  that  of  the  Svami-Narilyanas, 

It  should  be  premised  that  all  true  VaiBhnavas  of  w^hatever  sect  (as 
distill guiBhed  from  Sraartas  or  oi-thodox  followers  of  Smriti)  agree  in 
identifying  Vishnu  with  the  Supreme  Beings  instead  of  assigning  him 
a  secondary  position  as  a  mere  manifestation  of  the  Param  Brahma, 
They  also  agree  in  beUeviiig  that  every  faithful  worshipper  of  Vishnu 
is  transported  to  the  heaven  of  Vishnu  called  Vaikuntha  (instead  of  to 
the  temporary  Svarga,  or  paradise  of  orthodox  Brahmanism),  and  that 
when  once  admitted  there  he  is  not  liable  to  be  born  again  on  earth. 
It  may  also  be  noted  that  the  several  sects  are  distinguished  exter- 
nally by  diiierent  marks  (called  pundra)  made  on  the  forehead  wth 
coloured  earths  or  pigments — red,  white,  and  black,  especially  vn\\i 
a  white  earth  called  gopi-chandana.  All  Vaishnava  marks  are  per- 
pendicular (the  S'aiva  marks  being  horizontal).  They  are  generally 
made  everyday  between  the  eyes,  after  the  morning  ablution.  They 
are  supposed  to  denote  the  impress  of  Vishnu's  foot,  and  are  believed 
to  be  of  great  efficacy  and  significance.  They  are  the  mark  of  a 
man's  faith  in  his  own  pecuUar  deity  or  creed,  and  indicate  that  he 
carries  that  faith  with  him  to  his  daily  work.  It  is  even  said  that 
no  sin  can  exist  in  those  who  regularly  employ  these  marks.  In  the 
south  of  India  they  are  called  Nnma^  '*name  "  or  "  designation." 

1,  To  begin  with  the  followers  of  the  celebrated  Vaishnava  Reformer, 
Raman uj a.  He  was  born  at  Stii  (S'ri)  Parambattur,  a  town  about 
twenty-six  miles  west  of  Madras,  He  is  known  to  have  studied  and 
taught  at  Kanchi-puram  (Conjlvaram),  and  to  have  resided  towards 
the  end  of  his  fife  at  S'ri-Rangam  on  the  River  Kaverl,  near  Trichino- 
poly,  where  for  many  years  he  worshipped  A^ishnu  in  his  character  of 
S'riranga-nuth.  Eamanuja  probably  flourished  about  the  middle  or 
latter  part  of  the  twelfth  century.  The  chief  doctrine  he  propounded 
according  to  the  Sarva-dars'ana  Sangraha  (translated  by  Professors 
Cowell  and  Gough),  was  that  **  the  Supreme  Being  (isvavu)^  soul, 
(ehit),  and  not-soul  (a-chlt)^  are  the  triad  of  principles  {jymhlrtha-iriiayam). 
Vishnu  is  the  Supreme  Being ;  individual  spirits  are  souls ;  the  visible 
world  is  not-soul.** 

This  doctrine  was  in  some  respects  antagonistic  to  that  of  the  Brah- 
manical  revivalist  S'ankara  who  lived  three  or  four  centuries  before. 
That  great  teacher  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  strict  spiritual  Pantheist  in 
asserting  that  the  Supreme  Spirit  (Brahma)  is  the  only  real  existing 
essence,   the  universe  proceeding  irom  that  one  essence  as  the  hair 




Crom  a  liTing  man,  as  the  web  from  a  spider*  ae  foam  aud  bubbles  from 
the  ©esa,  Bamanuja,  on  tJie  otber  band,  contended  tbat  the  external 
urorld  has  a  real  separate  existence,  and  thut  the  souls  of  men  as  long 
WLB  they  reside  in  the  body  are  really  different  from  the  Supremo  SouL 
Id  Bopport  of  his  doctrine  of  the  diversity  of  souls  be  appealed  to  a 
paamge  in  the  Mundaka  Upanishad  which  rests  on  a  well-known  text 
of  the  Rig-veda  (i.  1G4.  20) : 

*•  Two  bird.*! — the  Siijireme  and  Individual  SonU — always  united,  of  the  same 
name,  occupy  the  same  tree  (abide  in  the  same  body).  One  of  them  (the 
Ladividual  Soul)  enjoys  the  fruit  of  the  fig  (or  coiiscquent-e  of  act^),  the  other 
looks  on  as  a  witness*'* 

Nevertheless  Eanilnnja  admitted  the  dependence  of  the  human  bouI 
on  the  di>^e,and  the  ultimate  oneness  of  God  (Vishnu),  man,  and  the 
nrnverse*  He,  therefore,  urged  the  duty  of  striving  after  final  union 
witli  the  Supreme.  "  Cut  is  the  knot  of  man's  heart,  solved  are  all  his 
doubts,  ended  are  all  his  works,  when  he  sees  the  Supreme  Being/*  Ho 
beld,  in  fact,  the  non-duality  (a-dvaita)  doctrine  of  the  Yedfrnta  philo- 
sophy, but  gave  it  a  special  interpretation  of  his  own,  calling  it, 
** qualified  non-duality"  {vuishtadvaita). 

After  EamaQuja's  death,  his  numerous  followers,  as  usual^  cor- 
rupted his  teaching,  introducing  uoauthorized  doctrines  and  prac- 
tices. Then,  about  six  hundred  years  ago,  a  learned  Bmhman  of 
Conjivaram,  named  VedantEcharya,  put  himself  forward  as  a  reformer, 
giving  out  that  he  was  commissioned  by  the  god  Vishnu  himself  to 
purify  the  faith  and  restore  the  doctrines  of  the  northern  Bralimans. 
This  led  to  irreconcilable  differences  of  opinion  between  the  Rama- 
nujas.  Two  great  antagonistic  parties  resulted— one  called  the 
northern  school  (Vada-galai  or  Vada-kalai,  Sanskrit  kald),  the  other 
tbe  southern  school  (Ten-galai),'*  They  are  far  more  opposed  to 
each  other  than  both  parties  are  to  S'aivas,  The  northern  school 
appeal  to  the  Sanskrit  Veda,  The  southern  have  compiled  a  Veda  of 
tbeir  own,  called  **  the  four  thousand  verses  "  (Nalayira),  written  in 
Tamil,  and  held  to  be  older  than  the  Sanskrit  Veda,  but  really  based 
on  its  Upanishad  portion.  In  all  their  worelup  they  repeat  ^selections 
from  these  Tamil  verses. 

An  important  difference  of  doctrine,  caused  by  different  views  of 
the  nature  of  the  souls  dependence  on  Vishnu,  separates  the  two 
parties.  The  view  taken  by  the  Vada-galais  corresponds,  in  a  manner, 
to  tlie  Arminian  doctrine  of  *'  freewill,"  The  soul,  say  they,  requires 
to  lay  hold  of  the  Supreme  Being  by  its  own  will,  act,  and  effort,  just 
as  the  young  monkey  clings  to  its  mother  (markala-nydt/ena).  The  view 
of  the  Ten-galais  is  paralleled  by  that  of  the  Calviniats,  It  is  tech- 
nically styled  **  the  cat-hold  argument "  {mdrjara-nt/difa)*     The  Imman 

*  Tbt  SiUuii  braneli  of  the  Biiiuiinujas  ia  not  a  sepaf&te  aobooL    It  eo/OMiMfU  of  a  httdy 
«f  WMtmt  who  ftre  opposed  to  Br&hmanicai  ufl&gvs.     It  nyrementm^  In  fmat^  tho  low-oiute 
te  ctmrerfM  to  T&tshiiATiflm^    It  is  vaaong  the  RiroinuJA  VuthziaraA  frh*t  the 
;  sect  is  amotsg  Sairiu. 


eoiil,  tliey  argue,  remains  paeeiye  until  acted   on  by  the  13iipreme 
Spirit,  jiiet  as  the  kitten  remains  passive  when  seized  and  traneportedj'J 
nolms  vokns^  from  place  to  place  by  the  mother-cat. 

No  AiTiunians  and  Calvin ists  liave  ever  fought  more  rancorouslj 
over  their  attempts  to  solve  insoluble  difficulties  than  haveVada-galaiii 
and  Ten-galais  over  their  struggles  to  secure  the  ascendency  of  theii 
own  theological  opinions,  The  fight  has  ended  in  a  drawn  battle*"! 
The  two  opposite  parties,  exhausted  Avith  their  profitless  logomachj 
and  useless  stri^angs  after  an  impossible  unity  of  opinion,  have  agpreed 
to  acquiesce  in  diflerences  of  doctrine. 

Their  disputes  are  now  chiefly  confined  to  the  most  insignificantj 
questions.  It  is  the  old  story  repeated.  The  Sibboleths  are  intolerant 
of  the  Shibboleths.  The  Vada-galais  contend  that  the  frontal  mai-kl 
of  the  sect  ought  to  represent  the  impress  of  the  right  foot  of  Vishnul 
(the  supposed  source  of  the  divine  Ganges),  while  the  Ten-galais 
maintain  that  equal  reverence  is  due  to  both  the  gods  feet.  It  ia 
cei-tainly  convenient  from  a  social  point  of  view  that  a  man's  theo- 
logical idiosyncrasies  should  be  stamped  upon  his  forehead.  Accord- 
ingly, the  two  religions  parties  are  most  particular  about  their  frontal 
emblems,  the  Vada-galais  making  a  simple  white  line  between  the 
eyes,  curved  to  represent  the  Bole  of  one  foot,  with  a  central  red 
mark  emblematical  of  Lakshmi ;  while  the  Ten-galais  employ  a  more 
coniplicated  device  symbolical  of  both  feet^  wliich  are  supposed  to 
rest  on  a  lotus  throne,  denoted  by  a  white  line  drawn  half  down  the 
nose.  The  complete  Ten-galai  symbol  has  the  appearance  of  a  trident, 
the  two  outer  prongs  (painted  with  white  earth)  standing  for  Vishnu  s 
two  feet,  the  middle  (painted  red  or  yellow)  for  his  consort,  Lakshmi, 
and  the  handle  (or  white  line  do^m  the  nose)  representing  the  lotus 
throne.  The  worst  quarrels  between  the  two  divisions  of  the  sect 
arise  from  disputes  as  to  which  mark  is  to  be  impressed  on  the  images 
worshipped  in  the  Vaishnava  temples,  to  which  all  Human uj as  resort 
indifferently.  Law-suits  are  often  the  result.  Both  parties  profess  a 
reverence  for  Vishnu's  consort,  but  the  Ten-galai  doctiine  is,  that 
the  power  of  saving  the  soul  is  confined  to  Vishjiu  alone,  and  needs 
no  intervening  channel  of  operation.  X  heard  it  remarked  by  a 
learned  Ten-galai  Bruhman  that  no  educated  men  believe  Vislmu  to 
be  really  married.  What  most  Ten-galais  hold  is  that  Lakshmi  is  an 
ideal  pei*sonification  of  the  deity's  more  feminine  attributes,  such  as 
those  of  mercy,  love,  and  compassion  j  while  some  philosophers  among 
thera  contend  that  the  Hindu  gods  are  only  represented  with  wives 
to  typify  the  mystical  union  of  two  great  principles,  spirit  and  matter, 
for  the  creation  and  regeneration  of  the  universe.  The  central  red 
mark^  therefore,  is  in  the  one  case  the  mere  expression  of  trust  in 
God's  mercy ;  in  the  other>  of  belief  in  the  great  mystery  of  creation 
and  re-creation. 

Another  point  which  distinguifihes  the  Ten-galais  is  that  they  pro- 




hibit  tlieir  widows  from  Bhaving  their  heads.  Every  married  woman 
in  India  rejoices  in  long,  fine  hair,  which  she  is  careful  to  preserve 
intact.  In  the  case  of  men,  regular  shaving  is  not  only  a  universal 
cnstom,  it  is  a  rehgions  duty.  But  for  women  to  be  deprived  of  any 
portion  of  their  hair  is  a  shame.  A  shorn  female  head  is  throughout 
India  the  chief  mark  of  widowhood.  Every  widow,  though  a  mere 
child,  is  compelled  to  submit  her  growing  locks  periodically  to  the 
family  barber.  It  is,  therefore,  a  singular  circumstance — quite  unique 
in  India—that  the  Ten-galai  widoXvs  are  exempted  from  all  obligation 
to  dishonour  their  heads  in  this  manner*  (compare  1  Cor.  xi,  5)» 

Again,  a  peculiarity  common  to  both  Ramanuja  sects  is  the  strict 
privacy  with  which  they  eat  and  even  prepare  their  meals.  No  Indians 
like  to  be  looked  at  while  eating.  They  are  firm  believers  in  the 
evil  influence  of  the  human  eye  (drishti-dosha).  The  preparation  of 
food  is  with  high-caste  natives  an  affair  of  equal  secrecy.  The  mere 
glance  of  a  man  of  inferior  caste  makes  the  greatest  delicacies  uneat- 
able, and  if  such  a  glance  happens  to  fall  on  the  family  supplies  during 
the  cooking  operations,  when  the  ceremonial  purity  of  the  water  usedt 
is  a  matter  of  almost  life  or  death  to  every  member  of  the  household, 
the  whole  repast  has  to  be  thrown  away  as  if  poisoned.  The  family 
Ib  for  that  day  dinnerless.  Food  thus  contaminated  would,  if  eaten* 
commxmicate  a  taint  to  the  souls  as  well  as  bodies  of  the  eaters — a 
taint  which  could  only  be  removed  by  long  and  painful  expiation. 
In  travelling  over  every  part  of  India,  and  diligently  striving  to  note 
the  habits  of  the  natives  in  every  circumstance  of  their  daily  life,  I 
never  once  saw  a  single  Hindu,  except  of  the  lowest  caste,  either 
preparing  or  eating  cooked  food  of  any  land.  The  Ramanujas  carry 
these  ideas  to  an  extravagant  extreme.  They  carefully  lock  the  doors 
of  their  kitchens  and  protect  their  culinary  and  prandial  operations 
from  the  gaze  of  even  high-caste  Brahmans  of  tribes  and  sects  different 
from  their  own. 

Each  of  the  present  leaders  (dchartfaa)  of  the  two  Ramanuja  sects 
lays  claim  to  be  the  true  descendant  of  the  founder  himself  in  regular, 
imbroken  succession.  The  Vada-galai  successor  (named  Ahobala) 
lives  at  a  monastery  (Mafha)  in  the  Kumool  district.  The  Ten-galai 
snccessor  (named  Vrmamamala)  lives  in  the  Tinnevelly  district. 
Though  they  preside  over  monasteries,  they  are  both  married; 
whereas  the  successors  of  the  orthodox  Brahman  S'ankara,  who  live 
at  S'ringeri  in  Mysore,  are  always  celibates.  The  two  Ramanuja 
Acharyas,  however,  are  strict  Ayengar  Brahraans,  and  will  probably  in 


•  The  Ten-gaLiis  quote  a  verse  ol  Vriddlm  Maau,  wHicli  declues  tliat  if  any  woman, 
wfa^Uier  unmarried  or  widowed,  sbave  her  head,  she  will  be  condemned  to  dweU  in  the 
htfU  ciUled  Banrftya^  for  one  thoonaiid  times  ten  million  ages. 

t  Caste-mles  are  now  an  essential  part  of  religion^  but  there  is  reason  to  beliere  thai 
they  were  once  merely  matters  of  social  convenience-  Many  of  them  probably  origimited 
In  the  need  of  aanitnry  precautions.  Nothing  is  so  necesisary  for  the  preservation  of 
hiialth  in  India  as  attention  to  the  purity  of  water. 



their  old  age  become  Sannyaels,  according  to  the  teachiag  of  the 
ancient  lawgiver,  Manii,  who  ordained  that  the  attainment  of  great 
nearness  to  the  Supreme  Being  is  incompatible  ydih  the  discharge  of 
household  duties,  and  that  every  Brahman  as  he  advances  in  life  is 
bound  to  abandon  his  wife  and  give  up  all  family  ties* 

Each  Aeharya  makes  a  periodical  visitation  of  his  diocese,  and 
holds  a  kind  of  confirmation  in  every  large  town.  That  is  to  say, 
every  child  or  young  person  who  has  been  regenerated  by  investitiire 
wdth  the  sacred  thread  is  brought  before  him  to  be  branded  or  stamped 
as  a  true  follower  of  Vishnu.  A  sacred  fire  is  kindled,  two  golden 
instruments  are  heated,  and  the  symbols  of  the  discus  and  shield  of 
Vishnu  (used  by  the  god  in  bis  conflicts  with  his  demon-foes)  are 
impressed  on  difierent  parts  of  the  body.  This,  in  my  opinion,  sym- 
bohzes  the  doctrine  that  every  faithful  Vaishnava  must  take  part  in 
the  daily  warfare  between  the  powers  of  good  and  the  powers  of  evil 
— the  everlasting  struggle  for  supremacy  between  gods  and  demons. 
Those  who  can  afford  it  present  the  Aeharya  with  a  fee  of  five  rupees 
in  return  for  the  impressed  marks. 

Let  me  conclude  what  is  necessarily  an  imperfect  sketch  of  an 
important  section  of  the  Hindu  community  by  a  brief  account  of  my 
visit  to  the  celebrated  Teo-galai  Vishnu  Pagoda,  near  Trichinopoly, 

This  remarkable  structure,  or  rather  collection  of  structures,  con- 
tains in  one  of  its  courts  a  shrine  of  Ramanuja  himself,  who  is  sup- 
posed to  have  lived  here  for  a  considerable  time  before  his  death. 
S'ri-rangam  is,  indeed,  rather  a  sacred  city  than  a  temple.  Hundreds 
of  Brahmans  reside  within  its  precincts,  thousands  of  pious  pilgrims 
throng  its  streets,  myriads  of  worshippers  crowd  its  corridors,  and 
press  towards  its  sanctuary.  No  sight  is  to  be  seen  in  any  part  of 
India  that  can  at  all  compare  with  the  unique  effect  produced  by  its 
series  of  seven  quadrangular  enclosures  formed  by  seven  squares  of 
massive  walls,  one  within  the  other-^every  square  pierced  by  four  lofty 
gateways,  and  each  gateway  sui-mounted  by  pyramidal  towers  rivalling 
in  altitude  the  adjacent  rock  of  Trichinopoly, 

The  idea  is  that  each  investing  square  of  walls  shall  foiin  courts  of 
increasing  sanctity  which  shall  conduct  the  worshipper  by  regular 
gradations  to  a  central  holy  of  holies  of  unique  shape  and  proportions. 
In  fact,  the  entire  fabric  of  shrines,  edifices,  towers,  aud  enclosures  is 
supposed  to  be  a  terrestrial  countei-part  of  A'^ishnus  heaven  (Vai- 
kuntha),  to  which  his  votaries  arc  destined  to  be  transported. 

MilHons  of  rupees  have  been  spent  upon  its  construction.  Kings 
have  given  up  their  revenues  for  its  maintenance  and  enlargement ; 
princes  have  emptied  their  coffers  for  the  completion  of  its  many- 
storied  towers  J  rich  men  of  every  rank  have  parted  with  their  trea- 
sures for  the  adding  of  column  after  cohimn  to  its  thousand-pi  11  a  re*  d 
courts ;  raisers  have  jaelded  up  their  hoards  fur  the  decoration  of  its 
jewelled  images ;  capitalists  have  bequeathed  va^t  benefactions  for 





e  support  of  ite  priests ;  architects  and  artists  have  exhausted  all 
liieir  reBources  for  the  production  of  a  perfect  shrine,  the  worthy 
receptacle  of  an  idol  of  transcendent  sanctity. 

The  idol  itaelf  is  recumbent,  and  its  legendary  history  is  curious. 
When  Rama  dismissed  his  ally  Vibhlshana — the  brother  of  the  con- 
quered demon  Havana,  who  had  carried  off  Sita  to  Ceylon — ^he  gave 
him,  out  of  gratitude  for  his  services,  a  golden  idol  of  Vishnu,  with 
tnstructians  not  to  lay  it  down  till  he  had  reached  home.  Vibhlshana 
accordingly  set  out  on  his  return  to  Ceylon,  taking  the  precious 
image  with  him.  Passing  near  S'ri-rangam,  and  wbhing  to  bathe  in 
the  sacred  tank,  he  gave  the  image  to  one  of  his  followers,  charging 
Kim  to  hold  it  upright,  and  on  no  account  to  let  it  pass  out  of  his 
hands.  But  Vibhlshana  was  so  long  over  his  ablutions,  that  the 
holder  of  the  image*  finding  its  weight  insupportable,  deposited  it  on 
the  ground^  intending  to  take  it  up  again  before  Vibhlshana's  return. 
The  dismay  of  all  parties  concerned  was  great  when  they  discovered 
that  the  idol  obstinately  declined  to  be  removed  from  its  comfortable 
position.  It  had,  therefore,  to  be  left  in  a  recumbent  attitude,  and  a 
ahriue  was  built  over  it,  shaped  like  the  sacred  monosyllable  Om,  sup- 
posed to  be  a  combination  of  the  three  letters  A,  U,  M,  mystically 
significant  of  the  Supreme  Being,  combining  within  himself  his  thi^ee 
manifestations  of  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  S'iva.  On  the  summit  of  the 
ahrine  were  placed  four  pinnacles  to  denote  the  four  Vedas,  and 
around  it  were  constructed  seven  walls  built  in  squares,  one  within 
the  other,  and  forming  seven  quadrangular  courts,  figuring  the  seven 
divisions  or  degrees  of  bUse  in  Vishnu's  heaven. 

Of  course  the  original  idol  of  Vishnu  is  supposed  to  be  still  immov- 
able; but  another  image  has  been  consecrated  (called  the  nUava- 
mffraJut)  which  is  carried  about  in  processions  on  certain  anniversaries 
— such,  for  example,  as  the  car-festival,  when  the  enoiinous  car, 
attached  to  every  Vaishnava  temple  in  southern  India,  is  dragged 
through  the  streets  of  the  town  by  thousands  of  men.  At  other  times 
the  image  is  borne  on  a  square  platform,  and  taken  to  an  open  hall, 
aapported  by  a  thousand  cohtnins  T^^tloin  the  precincts  of  the  temple. 

The  dress,  decorations,  and  jewelry  belonging  to  this  portable  idol 
were  all  exhibited  to  me.  I  8a%v  the  idol-crown  covered  vdth  dia- 
monds, pearls,  and  rabies,  worth  at  least  eighty  thousand  rupees,  with 
a  breastplate,  ornaments  for  the  feet,  and  necklace,  worth  at  least 
eighty  thousand  rupees  more* 

In  the  centre  of  the  inner  wall  of  the  temple,  near  the  interior  shrine 
on  the  north  side,  is  a  narrow  door  called  heaven's  gate.  I  happened 
to  visit  S'ri-rangam  at  the  time  of  the  great  festival  celebrated  on  the 
S7th  of  December.  This  is  the  one  day  in  the  year  on  which  the  gate 
is  opened,  and  on  the  occasion  of  my  visit  the  opening  took  place  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  First  the  idol — bedecked  and  bejewelled 
to    the  full — ^was  borne    through    the   narrow  portal,  followed  by 




eighteen  images  of  Vaishimva,  eaiQis,  and  devotees ;  then  came 
innumerable  prieste  chanting  Vedic  hymns  or  the  thousand  names  of 
Vishnu ;  then  dancing  girls  and  bands  of  musicians— the  invariable 
attendants  upon  idol-Bhriiies  in  the  south  of  India,  Finally  more  than 
fifty  thousand  people  crowded  for  hours  through  the  contracted 
passage,  amid  deafening  shouts  and  vociferations,  beating  of  drums, 
and  discordant  soimds  of  all  kinds  of  music. 

Not  a  single  human  being  passed  through  that  strait  and  narrow 
portal  without  presenting  offerings  to  the  idol,  and  gifts  to  the  priests. 
Many,  doubtless,  joined  the  sui^ging  throng  from  a  vague  sense  of 
duty,  or  because  their  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  joined  it  frona 
time  immemorial ;  but  the  motive  which  actuated  the  majority  was  a 
finn  conviction  that  the  passage  of  the  earthly  Heaven's  gate,  kept  by 
tiie  priests  and  unlocked  at  their  bidtling,  would  be  a  sure  passport  to 
Vishnu's  heaven  after  death. 

2.  The  next  most  important  of  the  Vaishoava  sects  is  that  of  the 
Madhvas.  They  were  founded  by  a  Kanarese  Bmhman  named  Madhva 
— otherwise  called  Ananda-iirtha  and  Piirnorprajna — who  is  said  to 
have  been  bom  about  the  year  1200,  at  a  place  called  Udupl,  on  the 
western  coast  (sixty  miles  north  of  Mangalore),  and  to  have  been 
educated  in  a  convent  at  Anantes'var,  He  was  to  a  certain  extent  an 
opponent  of  Ramanuja's  views,  but  the  chief  aim  and  object  of  his 
teaching  was  opposition  to  the  pantheistic  A-dvaita  (non-duality) 
doctrine  of  S  ankarachui-ya,  the  great  Vedantiet.  The  one  taught  the 
personaUty,  the  other  the  impersonality  of  God, 

In  fact  the  teaching  of  Madliva  is  thought  to  owe  something  to  the 
influence  of  Chnstianity,  which  had  made  itself  felt  in  the  south  of 
India  before  the  thirteenth  century.  The  exact  drift  of  his  doctrines 
is,  perhaps,  not  yet  thoroughly  understood^  but  it  is  certain  that  thej 
have  much  common  gi'ound  with  Christian  teaching. 

Madliva  taught  that  the  one  God  (identified  with  Vishnu)  is  supreme, 
tliat  the  Supreme  Soul  is  essentially  different  from  the  human  soul 
and  from  the  material  world,  and  that  all  three  have  a  real  and 
eternally  distinct  existence  and  will  remain  eternally  dii^tmct*  Yet 
the  elements  of  the  world,  though  existing  from  all  eternity,  were 
shaped,  ordered,  and  arranged  by  the  power  of  the  Supreme* 

'^  The  Supreme  Lord,"  said  Madhva  (SaiTa-dar.^i'ana-saiigraha  V.),  '*  differs 
from  the  iiKlividual  soul  because  he  is  the  object  of  its  ol>edieuce.  A  Riibject 
wbo  obeys  a  kin;;*  differs  froai  that  kinf(.  In  (heir  eager  desire  to  be  one  with 
the  Supreme  Being,  tlie  followers  of  B'ankara  lay  claim  to  the  glory  of  his 
oxcoTlotJoe.  This  m  a  mere  mirage.  A  man  witli  bis  tongue  cut  of!  might  as 
well  attempt  to  enjoy  a  large  plantain,'* 

Thia  etatemeiit  of  the  eternal  (h^stinction  of  God  and  the  human 
soul  is  called  Madhva  s  Dwaita  (duahty)  doctrine.  The  duahty  of 
other  Bystems  cousists  in  the  alleged  eternal  difterenoe  between  epirit 
and  matter- 


According  to  Madhva  the  Supreme  Being  is  to  be  honoured  in 
three  ways — by  naming,  by  worsliip,  and  by  branding. 

The  act  of  naming  iiiAlma-karana)  is  performed  by  giving  a  child 
one  of  the  thousand  names  of  Vishnu — ^such  as  Kes'ava — as  a 
memorial  of  his  dedication  to  the  service  of  the  god. 

The  act  of  worship  is  threefold  : — (1)  With  the  voice — ^by  veracity, 
right  conversation,  kind  words^  and  repetition  of  the  Veda ;  (2)  with 
the  body — ^by  gi\"iog  alms  to  the  poor,  by  defending  and  protecting 
them  ;  (3)  wth  the  heart — ^by  mercy,  love,  and  faith.  This  is  a  mere 
repetitioD  of  the  old  triple  division  of  duties*  according  to  thought, 
word^  and  deed. 

With  regard  to  the  rite  of  branding  (called  ankana),  the  Madhva 
aect«  like  the  Bamanujas  and  other  Yaishnavas,  lay  great  stress  on 
marking  the  body  indelibly  with  the  circular  discus  and  shell  of  Vishnu. 
The  idea  proLiably  is  that  the  trust  of  the  god*8  followers  in  his  power 
to  deliver  them  from  the  malignity  of  evil  demons  ought  to  be  denoted 
by  some  outward  and  visible  sign.  *'0n  his  right  arm  lot  the  Brahman 
wear  the  discns,  on  his  left  the  concli  shell  !'*  Wlien  I  was  at  Tanjore 
I  fornid  that  one  of  the  successors  of  lladhva  had  lately  arrived  oa 
his  branding-viaitation.  He  was  engaged  throughout  the  entire  day 
in  stamping  his  disciples  and  receiving  fees  from  all  according  to 
their  means*  I  found,  too,  that  no  less  than  eight  Achai-yae,  each  of 
"whom  is  established  with  his  disciples  in  diflerent  monasteries  with 
temples  attached,  claim  to  be  euecesflors  of  iladliva  Acharya.  There 
are,  however,  only  two  principal  parties  of  iladhvas*  In  all  probability 
these  quarrel  over  their  shibboleths,  but  not^  I  believe,  with  as  much 
bitterness  as  the  two  divi&ions  of  Ramanujas. 

The  frontal  mark  of  all  the  Mudhvas  is  the  same,  consisting  of  two 
thin  vertical  lines  meeting  below  in  a  curve,  like  that  of  the  Vada- 
galai  Ramanujas.  But  a  central  black  line  is  generally  made  with 
cliarcoal  taken  from  incense  burnt  before  the  idols  of  Vishnu. 

3.  The  third  great  Vaishnava  sect  is  that  founded  by  Vallabha, 
or  as  he  is  commonly  called  VaUabhucharya,  said  to  have  been  born 
in  the  forest  of  Champaranya  about  the  year  14713.  He  was  beUeved 
to  have  been  an  embodiment  of  a  poi-tion  of  Ki-ishna's  essence,  and 
various  miraculous  stories  are  fabled  about  him.  For  instance,  his 
intelligence  is  alleged  to  have  been  so  great  that  when  he  commenced 
Ififtrninp  at  seven  years  of  age,  he  mastered  the  four  Vedas,  the  sbc 
^VFt^ras  of  Philosophy,  and  the  eighteen  Puranas  in  four  mouths. 

After  precocity  so  prodigious  he  was  able  at  the  age  of  twelve  to 
formulate  a  new  view  of  the  Vaishnava  creed,  but  one  which  was  to  a 
certain  extent  derived  from  a  previous  teacher  named  Vishnu-svami. 
Soon  he  commenced  travelling  to  propagate  liis  doctrines.  When  h^ 
reached  the  court  of  Krishnadeva,  King  of  Vijaya-nagar,  he  was 
invited  to  engage  in  a  pubhc  disputation  with  a  number  of  Smarta 
BTahmans,     In  tliis  he  succeeded  so  well  that  he  was  elected  chief 

D  2 



Acliaiya  of  tlie  Vaishuavae.  He  then  travelled  for  nine  years  tlirongli 
different  parts  of  India,  and  finally  settled  in  Benares,  where  he  com- 
posed seventeen  works,  among  which  was  a  commentary  on  the 
Bhagavata-purana.  This  last  work,  especially  its  tenth  book — de- 
scriptive  of  the  early  life  of  Krishna — is  the  chief  autlioritative  source 
of  the  doctrines  of  the  sect*  In  philosophy  Vallabha  maintained 
Vedantist  doctrines,  and  called  his  system  "pure  non-duahsm'' 
{S\iddharaiia\  to  distinguish  it  from  the  ''quahfied  non-dualism" 
(Visisktadraka)  of  Rumanuja.  Vallabhacharya  died  at  Benares,  or, 
according  to  his  followers,  was  transported  to  heaven  while  performing 
his  ablutions  in  the  Qanges. 

His  followers  are  very  numerous  in  Bombay,  Gujarat,  and  Central 
India,  particularly  among  the  merchants  and  traders  called  Baniyas 
and  Bhatiyas.  He  left  behind  him  Gighty-four  principal  disciples, 
who  disseminated  his  doctrines  in  various  dbections.  But  the  real 
successor  to  his  Gradi  or  chair  was  his  second  son,  Vitthalnath,  some- 
times called  Gosainji  from  his  having  settled  at  Gokul,  near  Muttra. 
This  Vitthaluuth  had  seven  sons,  each  of  whom  established  a  Gfidl  in 
difterent  districts,  especially  in  Bombay,  Kutch,  Kathiawar,  and 
Malwa.  The  influence  of  Vallahhricharya-s  successors  became  so 
great  that  they  received  the  title  Maha-raja,  "  great  king,"  the  name 
Gosain  (for  Gosvamin— lord  of  cows — an  epithet  of  Krishna)  being 
sometimes  added. 

Vallabhaeharj^a's  view  of  the  Vaishnava  creed  has  been  called 
Pmhti'marga,  the  way  of  eating,  drinking,  and  enjoying  oneself.  He 
maintained,  in  fact,  that  the  Deity  ouglit  to  be  worshipped  not  with 
fasting,  self^moiiificatioii,  and  suppression  of  the  passions,  but  with 
indulgence  of  the  natural  appetites,  and  enjoyment  of  the  good  things 
of  the  world.  His  followers  are  the  Epicureans  of  India,  and  his  suc- 
cessoi-s,  the  Maharajas,  dress  in  the  costliest  raiment,  feed  on  the 
daintiest  viands,  and  abandon  themselves  to  every  form  of  sensuality 
and  luxury.  The  god  worshipped  is  the  Krishna  incarnation  of 
Vishnu,  as  he  appeared  in  his  boyhood,  when,  as  a  mere  child,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  childish  mirth,  and  condescended  to  sport  with  the 
Gopis  or  cowherdeeses  of  Mathura  (I^Inttra).  I  was  present  at  a  land 
of  revivalist  camp-meeting  near  Allahabad,  where  a  celebrated  Hindii 
preacher  addressed  a  large  assemblage  of  people  and  magnified 
this  condescension  as  a  proof  of  Krishna's  superiority  to  all  other 

The  children  of  the  Vallabhacharyans  are  admitted  to  membership 
at  the  age  of  two,  three,  or  four  yeai*s.  A  rosaiy,  or  necklace  (kantlu) 
of  one  hundred  and  eight  beads,*  made  of  tulsi  wood,  is  passed  round 
their  necks  by  the  Maharaja,  and  they  are  taught  the  use  of  the 
eight-syllabled  prayer,  *'  Great  Krishna  is  my  souFs  refuge," 

**  This  is  lecttuBo  103  names  are  c^iven  to  Vallabhiicharya  and  hia  succeasow,  which 
are  aimilar  to  the  lOS  chief  namea  of  Krishna  as  the  Supreme  Being. 


The  images  used  in  the  temples  of  the  sect  repreBent  KrMina  m  the 
boyish  period  of  hie  hfe  (in  the  form  called  Bula-KriBhua),  supposed 
to  extend  to  his  twelfth  year.  According  to  the  higher  Vaishnava 
creed,  Krishna's  love  for  the  Gopis — ^theniselvee  the  wives  of  the 
cowherdfi — and  the  paesion  of  the  Gopis  for  him,  are  to  be  explained 
aDegorically,  and  H^^rabolize  the  longuig  of  the  human  soul  for  union 
\Wth  the  Supreme.  When  I  have  asked  strict  Vaiehnavas  for  an  explana- 
tion of  Krishna's  alleged  adulteries,  I  have  always  been  told  that  his 
attachment  to  the  Gopis  was  purely  spiritual,  and  that,  in  fact,  he  was 
smly  a  child  at  the  time  of  his  association  with  them* 

But  the  Yallabhacharyans  interpreted  that  attachment  in  a  gross 
mnd  material  sense.  Hence  their  devotion  to  Krishna  has  degenerated 
into  the  most  corrupt  practices^  and  their  whole  system  has  become 
rotten  to  the  core.  Their  men  have  brought  themselves  to  believe 
that  to  win  the  favour  of  their  god,  they  must  assimilate  themselves  to 
females.  Even  the  Mahamjas,  or  spiritual  chiefs,  the  successors  of 
Vallabhacharya,  are  accustomed  to  dress  like  women  when  they  lead 
the  worship  of  their  followers. 

But  the  real  blot,  or  rather  foul  statin,  wliich  defaces  and  defiles  the 
qrstem,  remains  to  be  described.  These  Maharajas  have  come  to  be 
regarded  as  representatives  of  Krishna  upon  earth.  It  is  even  beUeved 
by  many  that  they  are  actual  incarnations  or  impei-sonations  of  the 
god.  So  that  in  the  temples  where  the  Maharajas  do  homage  to  the 
idols»  men  and  women  do  homage  to  tho  Mahrirujas,  prostrating  them- 
selves at  their  feet,  offering  them  incense,  fruits  and  flowers,  and 
waving  lights  before  them,  as  the  Maharajas  themselves  do  before  the 
miiiges  of  the  gods.  One  mode  of  worshipping  the  boyish  Krishna  is 
by  swinging  his  images  in  swings.  Hence,  in  every  district  presided 
over  by  a  Maharaja,  the  women  are  accustomed  to  woi^ship  not  Krishna 
but  the  Mahamja  by  swinging  him  in  pendent  seats.  The  Pan-supari 
ejected  from  his  mouth,  the  lea\4ngs  of  his  food,  and  the  very 
dost  on  which  he  has  walked,  are  eageriy  devoured  by  his  devotees, 
while  they  also  drink  the  water  rinsed  from  his  garments,  and  that 
used  in  the  washing  of  his  feet,  which  they  call  Charanamrita,  **  feet 
nectar,**  Others,  again,  worship  his  wooden  shoes,  or  prostrate 
themselves  before  his  seat  (gadi)  and  his  painted  portraits.  But 
infinitely  worse  than  all  this  :  it  is  beUeved  that  the  best  mode 
of  propitiating  the  god  Krishna  in  heaven  is  by  ministeiiog  to 
the  sensual  appetites  of  his  successors  and  vicars  upon  earth.  Body, 
soul,  and  property  {tariy  many  dkan)  are  to  be  wholly  made  over  to 
them,  in  a  peculiar  rite  called  Self-devotion  (samarpana\  and  women 
are  taught  to  believe  that  highest  bliss  will  be  secured  to  themselves 
and  their  families  by  the  caresses  of  Krishnas  representatives.* 

*  The  pro^gmoy  of  the  M&hArajoa  wan  exposed  in  the  celebrated  trial  of  the  M&huxuytk 
libel  cB£e,  which  came  before  the  Supreme  Court  of  Bomlmy  on  the  26th  of  J&aojurj, 
1S62.  The  eyidenoe  giTen,  and  the  judgment  of  the  jndgoiBL,  hare  acted  aa  some  check  on 
thft  licentious  pcacticet  of  the  eecL 



No  wonder  that  a  cormption  of  the  VaishDava  faith,  so  abominable, 
should  have  led  to  the  modern  Puritan  movement,  tmder  the  reformer 
Svami-Nriifijana.  This  remarkable  man,  whose  proper  name  was 
Sahajananda,  was  a  high-ca^te  Brahman.  He  was  bom  at  Chapai,  a 
village  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  to  the  north-west  of  Lueknow, 
about  the  year  1780.  Disgusted  Avith  the  manner  of  life  of  the 
Vaishuava  BmhmanB  of  his  own  time  and  neighbourhood,  whose 
prceepte  and  prar-tice  were  utterly  at  variance,  and  eBpecially  with 
the  licentiouB  habits  of  the  VallabhacharyanSj  he  detennined  to 
denounce  their  irregnlaritieB  and  expose  their  vioes.  He  himself 
was  a  celibate,  virtuous,  self-controlled,  austere,  ascetical,  yet  withal 
large-hearted  and  philanthropic,  and  with  a  great  aptitude  for 
learning.  He  left  his  home  about  the  year  1800,  and  took  up  his 
abode  at  a  ^'illage  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Junagarh  Nawab. 
There  he  placed  himself  under  the  protection  of  the  chief  guru 
named  Ranmnanda  Svanil,  When  that  holy  man  removed  to  Ahme- 
dfibSd,  in  1804,  Sahajaiianda  followed  him. 

In  a  large  and  populous  city  a  man  of  evident  ability  and  professed 
l,nctity  could  not  fail  to  attract  attention.  Soon  Sahajaoanda  col- 
'leeted  about  his  own  pei-son  a  little  band  of  disciples,  which  rapidly 
nmltiplied  into  an  army  of  devoted  adherents.  Some  attribute  his 
influence  to  a  power  of  mesmerizing  his  followers,  but  he  probably 
owed  his  success  to  a  remarkable  fascination  of  manner  combined 
with  consistency  of  moral  cliaiacter,  and  other  qualities  which  singled 
him  out  for  a  leader.  His  disciples  increased  so  rapidly  that  the  Brah* 
mans  and  magnates  of  Ahmedabad  began  to  be  jealous  of  his  popu- 
larity, lie  was  obliged  to  fly,  and  souglit  refuge  at  Jetalpur,  twelve 
miles  soutb  of  Ahmedabad.  There  he  invited  all  the  Brahmans  of  the 
Deighbonrhood  to  the  performance  of  a  great  sacrifice.  The  native 
oflicials  no  sooner  heard  of  the  proposed  assemblage  than,  fearing  a 
collision  between  his  followers  and  other  religious  parties,  they  had 
him  arrested  on  some  frivolous  pretext  and  thrown  into  prison.  Such 
an  act  of  t^Taimy  defeated  its  own  object.  It  excited  universal  sym- 
pathy, and  increased  his  influence.  He  was  soon  released.  Hymns 
were  composed  in  which  liis  merits  were  extolled.  Verses  were  written 
descriptive  of  liis  sufferingi^.  Ciu-ses  were  launched  against  the  heads 
of  his  persecutoi^s, 

Jetalpur  then  became  the  focus  of  a  great  religious  gathering. 
Thousands  flocked  to  the  town  and  enrolled  themselves  as  the 
followers  of  Sahajunanda,  who  took  the  name  of  Svami-Nai-ayana, 

Bishop  Hel>er,  in  his  Indian  jom-nal,  gives  the  following  interesting 
account  of  an  interview  with  him  at  this  period  of  his  career: — 

*^  About  eleven  o'clock  I  had  the  expected  visit  from  Svanii-Nariiyarm.  The 
holy  uiaiJ  was  a  iniddle-sized,  thin,  iilam-lookiug  |verson,  aljovit  aiy  own  a|^e, 
with  a  mild  and  diffident  expres.sion  of  coimtenance,  but  notliiug  about  him 
indicative  of  any  extraordinary  talent.    He  came  in  somewhat  diJferent  style 




frooi^all  I  bud  eacpecte^.  having  with  him  nearly  two  hundred  horsemen.  Wlien  I 
considered  that  I  ha*!  '     n  eaoortof  more  than  fifty  horBe  I  could  not  help 

smtliug,  though  my  is  were  in  some  degree  painful  and  humiliaLing  ivt 

the  idea  of  two  religiuui*  teachers  meeting  at  the  head  of  httle  armies^  and 
lil1nY;:r  the  rftr  which  wiis  the  scene  of  their  interview  with  the  rattling  of 
qn  h  of  shields,  and  the  tramp  of  the  war-horse.     Had  our  troopfl 

be*  ro  each  other,  mine,  though  less  numeroui?,  would  have  been 

di'  If  more  effective,  from  the  superiority  of  arms  and  disciphne.     But 

In  ':iii(leur  what  a  difference  was  there  t>etween  his  troup  and  mine! 

Mine  T..  ^  !  knew  me  nor  cared  for  me,  though  they  escorted  me  faithfully. 
The  g-uu-rds  oi  Svami-Nlirayana  were  his  own  discij^es  and  enthusiastic 
admirers,  men  who  had  voluntarily  repaired  to  hear  his  lessons,  who  now  t(X»k 
a  pride  in  doing  him  honour,  and  who  would  cheerfully  fight  to  the  last  drop 
of  bhx>d  rather  than  suffer  a  fringe  of  his  garment  to  he  handled  ro uglily. 
In  my  own  parish  of  Hodnet  there  were  onoe,  perhaps,  a  few  honest  country- 
men who  fek  something  like  this  for  me.  but  bow  long  a  time  must  elapse 
belore  a  Christian  minister  in  India  can  hop«^  to  be  thus  loved  and 
hoooured  I  " — Cliap.  xxv. 

It  eoon  became  clear  to  Sahajnnaiida  that  the  eraocese  of  his  future 
operations  would  depend  on  the  cooBolidation  of  his  party.  He 
therefore  retired  with  his  followers  to  the  secluded  \illage  of  Wartal^ 
-where  he  erected  a  temple  to  Narayana  (otherwise  Krishna,  or  Vishnu, 
m»  the  Supreme  Being)  associated  with  the  goddess  Lakshmi.  It  was 
from  this  central  locality  that  his  crusade  against  the  Vallabhacharyans 
^raa  principally  c^nied  on.  His  watchword  seems  to  have  been 
**  devotion  to  Krishna  (aa  the  Supreme  Being)  witli  obeervance  of 
duty  and  ptirity  of  life." 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  making  periodical  tours  in  Gujarat  like  a 
bishop  visiting  his  diocese.  It  was  in  one  of  these  that  Svami-Xara- 
yana  was  struck  down  by  fever  at  Gadada  in  Kathiawar,  where  he 

His  disciples  now  number  more  than  200,0(M)  persons.  They  are 
divided  into  two  great  classes — Sadhiis,  **holy  men,"  and  Grihastlms, 
**  householders.'*  These  correspond  to  clergy  and  laity,  the  former^ 
wiio  are  all  celibates,  being  supported  by  the  latter.  Those  Sadhus 
who  are  Brahmans  are  called  Brahma-choris.  Of  these  there  are 
about  304>  at  Wadal,  the  whole  body  of  Sadhus,  or  holy  men,  number- 
ing about  1,000.  A  still  lower  order  is  called  Pala.  Of  these  there  are 
about  500. 

The  two  principal  temples  of  the  sect  are  at  Wartal  (for  Sanskrit 
Vraidlatfo,  abode  of  religious  observances),  about  four  miles  to  the 
west  of  the  Baroda  railway^  and  Ahmedabad.  The  former  is  the 
most  important  and  best  endowed,  but  both  are  presided  over  by 
Mahirajas^  neither  of  whom  is  willing  to  yield  the  precedence  to  the 
other.  Jealousies  are  already  spmging  up  between  them.  Probably, 
in  procees  of  time,  a  schiem  A\ill  take  place,  and  perhaps  two  an- 
tagonistic partiee  bo  formed,  as  in  other  Yaishuava  sects. 

In  company  ^vith  the  Collector  of  Kaira  I  visited  the  Wartal  temple 
on  the  day  of  the  Pumimi,  or  fuU  moon  of  the  month  Kartik — the 



moBt  popular  feetival  of  the  whole  year.  The  Maharaja  greeted  us  at 
the  Boeravi  station  of  the  Baroda  railway  with  a  choice  of  convey- 
ances— an  elephant,  a  bullock-carriage  shaped  like  a  pagoda,  a  palan- 
quin and  four  horses,  with  a  mounted  guard.  I  chose  the  palanquin 
and  found  myself  moving  comfortably  forward,  while  my  companions 
vehicle  oscillated  violently  in  reeponse  to  the  inequalities  of  the  road* 
The  Svarai-Namyanas  are  a  wealthy  community,  but  clearly  object  to 
*»pend  tlieir  money  on  improving  the  accegs  to  their  chief  temple.  One 
reason  for  this  may  be  that  a  shrmes  inaccessibility  enhances  the 
merit  of  pilgrimage, 

We  were  met  at  the  entrance  to  the  court  of  the  temple  (maadir)  by 
the  Mahfuaja  himself,  atteoded  by  his  minister — an  old  Brahmachari, 
or  unmarried  Brahman.  The  temple  dedicated  to  Lakshrai-Narayana, 
erected  about  sixty  yeai-e  ago,  is  a  handsome  stmcture.  It  has  the 
usual  lofty  cupolas,  and  stands  in  the  centre  of  a  courtyard,  formed 
by  the  residences  of  the  Jlaharaja  and  his  attendants,  the  great  hall  of 
assembly,  and  other  buildings. 

We  were  cod  ducted  by  the  ]\Iahani}a  through  a  crowd  of  at  least  ten 
thousand  persons,  who  thronged  the  quadi^angle  and  all  the  approaches 
to  the  temple.  They  were  waiting  to  he  admitted  to  the  one  cere- 
mony of  the  day,  and  the  one  object  that  had  drawn  so  many  people 
to  one  spot— the  privilege  of  Darsanoj  or  a  sight  of  the  principal  idol. 
It  was  a  moment  of  intense  excitement.  Let  a  man  but  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  jewelled  image  on  this  anniversary  of  its  manifestation 
to  the  multitude,  and  the  blessing  of  the  god  attends  him  for  the  whole 
year.  The  vtist  concourse  swayed  to  and  fro  hke  the  waves  of  a 
troubled  sea,  each  man  vociferating  to  his  neighbours  in  a  manner 
quite  appalling,  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  our  apparent  helpless- 
ness in  the  surging  crowd,  and  asking  myself  how  two  solitary 
Europeans  would  be  likely  to  fare,  if,  from  some  accidental  circum- 
stance, the  religious  fanaticism  of  a  myriad  excited  Hindus  were  to 
break  loose  and  vent  itself  upon  us. 

But  the  ten  thousand  people  were  docUe  as  chOdren.  At  a  signal 
from  the  Malmmja  they  made  a  lane  for  us  to  pass,  and  we  entered 
the  temple  by  a  handsome  flight  of  steps.  The  interior  is  surrounded 
by  idol  shrines.  On  the  occasion  of  the  present  festival  the  principal 
images  were  almost  concealed  from  view  by  rich  vestments  and 

One  of  the  two  principal  shrines  has  three  figiires  j  that  on  the  left 
of  the  spectator  is  an  idol  of  Krishna  in  his  character  of  Ran-chor 
"  sin-deliverer," — a  form  of  Krishna  specially  woi'shipped  at  Dvaraka, 
and  throughout  Gujarut,*  An  image  of  Narayana  (Vishnu  as  the 
Supreme  Being)  is  in  the  middle  ;  and  Lakshmi,  consort  of  Vishnu,  is  on 

•  So  tlie  name  was  interpreted  to  me,  but  I  suspect  it  properly  means  "  fight-quitter," 
atid  rtttlior  refers  to  Krifltiua'a  declining  to  take  port  in  the  great  war  of  the  Mali&^ 
yifirata,  between  the  Bona  of  Paadu  and  I>hritu-r»ahtra. 



the  right.  A  gong  to  be  etmck  ia  the  perfonnance  of  worship 
ijpujo)  hangs  suspended  before  the  shrine.  The  other  principal  sanc- 
tuary has  Krislma  in  the  middle,  his  favonrite  Rudha  on  the  right,  and 
Svami-Narayau,  the  founder  of  the  sect^  on  the  left.  The  latter  is 
here  worshipped,  like  other  great  religious  leadei^  as  an  incarnation 
of  a  portion  of  Vishnn^ — that  is,  he  is  held  to  be  one  of  the  nmneroue 
Naravataras  or  descents  of  parts  of  the  god  s  eesencc  in  the  bodies 
of  men.  In  an  adjacent  shrine  are  his  bed  and  clothes,  the  print  of 
his  foot,  and  his  wooden  slippers. 

We  were  next  conducted  to  the  Sabha-mandapa,  or  great  hall  of 
assembly,  on  one  side  of  the  quadrangle.  Here  about  three  thousand 
of  the  chief  members  of  the  sect,  including  a  number  of  the  Sadhus 
or  clergy,  were  waiting  to  receive  us.  Chairs  were  placed  for  us  in 
the  centre  of  the  hall,  and  before  us,  seated  on  the  ground,  with  their 
legs  folded  under  them  in  the  usual  Indian  attitude,  were  two  rows  of 
about  thirty  of  the  oldest  Sadhus,  three  or  four  of  whom  had  been 
actually  contemporaries  of  Svami-Narayana.  These  old  men  were 
dehghted  when  we  questioned  them  as  to  their  personal  knowledge 
of  their  founder.  The  only  inconvenience  was  that  they  all  wanted 
to  talk  together.  I  felt  indisposed  to  check  their  garrulity,  but  the 
Maharaja  interposed  and  invited  us  to  another  spacious  hall  in  the 
story  above  (upari-hhroni)^  where  a  select  number  of  their  best  Pandits 
were  assembled  to  greet  us.  The  regular  Darbar  or  formal  reception 
took  place  in  this  room.  Here  we  were  garlanded  with  flowers, 
besprinkled  wnth  rosewater,  and  presented  with  fiuits,  sweetmeats,  and 
pan-suparl,  in  the  usual  manner*  I  foimd  the  Pandits  well  veiled  in 
Sanskrit.  One  or  two  astonished  me  by  the  fluency  with  which  they 
spoke  it,  and  by  their  readiness  in  answering  the  diflicult  questions 
with  which  I  tested  theii*  knowledge. 

The  Maharaja's  last  act  was  to  conduct  us  to  an  adjacent  building, 
used  as  a  lodging-house  or  asylum  {(Iharma-/alo)  for  the  clergy.  On 
the  present  anniversary  at  least  six  hundred  of  these  good  men  were 
collected  in  long  spacious  galleries  called  As'ramas  (places  of  retreat). 
They  were  all  dressed  alike  iu  plain  salmon-coloured  clothes,  each 
man  being  located  in  a  small  separated  space  not  more  than  seven 
feet  long,  by  three  or  four  broad.  Above  his  head,  neatly  arranged 
in  racks,  were  his  spare  cloth es,  water-jar,  &c.  When  we  were  intro- 
duced to  the  six  hundi-ed  Sadhus  they  were  all  standing  upright, 
motionlosB,  and  silent.  At  night  they  lie  down  on  the  hard  ground 
in  the  same  narrow  space.  These  holy  men  are  supposed  to  have 
abandoned  all  worldly  ties,  that  they  may  go  forth  unencumbered  to 
disBeminate  the  doctrines  of  their  founder.  They  itinerate  in  pairs, 
to  cheer,  support,  and  keep  watch  on  each  otlier.  They  travel  on 
foot*,  undergoing  many  privations  and  hardships,  and  taking  wth  them 
nothing  but  a  staff",  the  clothes  on  their  back,  their  daily  footl,  their 
water-jar,  and  their  book  of  instructions.    They  may  be  seen  here  and 



there  in  the  ordinary  coarse  ealmon-coloured  dress  of  asceticB,  Btriving 
to  will  disciples  bj  personal  example  and  persiiasioii,  rather  than  by 
controversy.  Surely  other  proselyting  societies  might  learn  something 
by  a  study  of  their  method. 

What  I  saw  of  their  whole  system  convinced  me  that  the  Svami- 
Narayanas  are  an  energetic  body  of  men,  and  their  sect  an  advancing 
one.  Notwithstanding  the  asceticism  of  their  clergy,  the  leading 
members  of  the  commmiity  have  a  keen  eye  to  the  acquisition  of 
money  and  lands,  and  are  perhaps  not  over  scnipulouB  in  can-ying  out 
their  plans  of  aggrandisement.  Without  doubt  the  tendency  of  their 
doctrines  is  towards  purity  of  life,  which  is  supposed  to  be  effected  by 
suppression  of  the  passions  {uddsa),  and  complete  devotion  to  the 
Supreme  Being  in  his  names  of  Narayana,  Vishnu,  and  Krishna.  In 
an  honest  desire  to  purify  the  Vaishnava  faith  the  sect  has  done  and 
is  doing  much  good ;  but  there  can  be  no  question  that  its  doctrines, 
like  its  gods^  its  idols,  and  its  seotarian  marks,  ore  part  and  parcel  of 
genuine  Hindidsm. 

I  ought  to  state,  in  conclneionj  that  after  my  discussion  with  the 
Pandits  I  %va8  presented  with  their  S'iksha-patri,  or  manual  of  instruc- 
tions, written  in  Sanskrit  (with  a  long  commentary),  and  constituting 
the  rehgiouB  directoiy  of  the  secL  It  was  compiled  by  their  Founder, 
with  the  aid  of  a  learned  Brahman  named  Dinanath,  and  is  a  collection 
of  two  hundred  and  twelve  precepts — some  original,  some  extracted 
from  Manu  and  other  sacred  S'astras,  and  many  of  them  containing 
high  moml  sentiments  worthy  of  Chiistianity  itself.  Every  educated 
member  of  the  sect  appeared  to  know  the  whole  collection  by  heart. 

Specimens  of  the  verses  were  recited  to  me  by  the  Pandits,  with 
the  correct  intonation,  in  the  original  Sanskrit.  As  they  are  calcu- 
lated to  give  a  just  idea  of  the  purer  side  of  modern  Vaishna^m — 
the  most  popular  form  of  rehgion  now  existing  throughout  our  Indian 
Empire— I  conclude  my  present  paper  by  translating  a  selection  into 
English.  I  have  arranged  the  examples  in  an  order  less  confused  than 
that  of  the  orighial.  The  figures  in  parentheses  refer  to  the  number 
of  the  verses  in  the  S'ikehii-patri, 

"  I,  Sahajanaofla  Svauii,  living  at  VratRlaya,  write  this  letter  of  instructioiis 
to  all  my  followers  scattered  iii  different  ccmntrie^^  (2). 

**  No  di!*ciples  of  mine  Diust  ever  intentioually  kiO  any  living  thing  whatever, 
not  even  a  tlea  or  the  most  minnte  insect  (11). 

''  Tlie  killing  of  any  animal  for  the  purpose  of  sacrifice  to  the  gods  is  f^ 
bidden  liy  me.     Abstaining  from  injnry  is  the  higrhest  of  all  duties  (12). 

*'  Suici<ie  at  a  aacred  place  of  pilgrimage,  from  i^ligious  motives  or  from 
jmseion,  is  proMbited  (14). 

**  No  flenh  meat  nititit  ever  be  eaten,  no  spirituous  or  vinous  Uquor  must  ever 
be  dnmk.  not  even  a^  medicine  (15). 

*'  All  theft  is  jji ohibited,  even  under  prntence  of  contributing  to  religious 
objects  (17). 

**"  No  male  or  female  followers  of  mine  must  ever  commit  adultery  (18). 

'*  No  false  accusation  must  be  laid  against  anj  one  from  motives  of  self- 
interest  (20). 





"-  Profane  language  agatnat  the  god»^  sacred  places,  Brahmans,  holy  men 
and  womeD,  aiid  the  Vedas.  must  never  be  used  (21), 

^  A  tnith  which  causers  serious  injury  to  tme*8  self  or  others  need  not  be  told. 
Wicked  men,  ungratefol  people,  and  persons  in  love  are  to  bo  avoided,  A  bribe 
mndc  never  be  ac<?epted  (2r>). 

"A  trust  mu.*tt  never  be  beti^ayed.  Contidence  must  never  be  violated 
Praise  of  one's  self  with  one's  own  lip«  is  prohibited  (37). 

"  Holy  men  should  patiently  bear  abusive  language,  or  even  beating,  from 
evil-minded  persons,  and  wish  good  to  them  (^01). 

^'  They  should  not  play  at  any  games  of  chance,  nor  act  as  informers  or 
spies;  they  should  never  sho^sr  luve  of  self,  or  undue  partiality  for  their 
rdations  (202). 

^  Wives  should  serve  their  husbands  as  gods,  and  never  offend  them  with 
improper  language,  though  they  l>e  diseas^,  indigent,  or  imbecile  (150). 

**  Widows  should  ser\'e  the  gud  Krishna,  regarding  him  as  their  only 
husiband  (163). 

*•  They  s*hould  only  eat  one  meal  a  day,  and  should  sleep  on  the  ground  (168), 

**  Every  day  let  a  man  awake  before  sunrise,  and,  after  calling  on  the 
name  of  Krishna,  proceed  to  perform  the  rites  of  bodily  purification  (49). 

***"  Having  seated  himself  in  some  place  aj*art,  let  him  cleanse  his  teeth,  and 
then,  having  bathed  with  pure  water,  jiut  on  two  well-washed  garments,  on© 
sin  nnder  garment  and  the  other  an  upfxiT  (50). 

*•  My  male  followers  fshnuld  then  make  the  vertical  mark  (emblemarical  of 
the  footprint  of  Vishnu  or  Krishna)  with  the  round  ^ot  inside  it  (.s>Tnttolieal 
of  Lakshml)  on  their  foreheads.  Their  wives  should  only  make  the  circular 
mark  \Anth  red  |Mjwder  of  saffron  (52). 

**  Those  who  are  initiated  into  the  proper  worship  of  Krishna  should  always 
wear  on  their  ne*-ks  two  rosaries  made  of  Tulsl  w<X)d,*  one  for  Krishna  and 
the  other  for  Radha  (4). 

**  After  engaging  in  mental  woi-shii*,  let  them  reverently  Ik>w  down  before 
the  pictures  of  Radha   and  Kri8lma,t  and  repeat  the  eight -syllabled  prayer 

Krishna  (that  is  S'r't  Kn'sJiuah  s'aranafu  mama,  **  Great  Krishna  is  my  soul^s 
,_    ige**)  as  many  times  as  possible.     Then  let  them  apply  themselves  to 
flifecuiar  affairs  (54). 

♦*  Devotion  to  Krishna  miattended  by  the  performance  of  duties  must  on  no 
account  be  practised  (39). 

•*  The  duties  of  one's  o^vn  class  and  order  must  never  be  abandoned,  nor  the 
duties  of  others  meddled  with  (24). 

**  Nowhere,  except  in  Jagan-nath-puri,  must  cooked  food  or  water  1>D  accepted 
from  a  j^ierson  of  low  caste,  though  it  be  the  remains  of  an  offering  to 
Krishna  (19). 

ay  is  that  goo*l  practice  which  is  enjoined  lK>th  by  the  Veda 
(S  the  law  (Smriti),  which  is  fomided  on   the  Veda.     Devotion 

{hAidit)  iJ-  iii tense  love  for  Krishna  accompanied  with  a  due  sense  of  hm 
glory  (103). 

[  »'  **  An  act  proii  i  id  reward,  bat  involvmg  departure  from  proper  duties, 

■^ust  never  be  r  m  d  (73X 

**  If  by  the  great  men  of  former  day 8  anything  iml)ecoming  has  been  done, 
their  faults  must  not  be  imitatcil,  Init  only  thei^r  good  deeds  (74). 

•*  If  knowingly  or  ma  intentionally  any  shi,  great  or  small,  i>e  committed,  the 

0[ier  penance  must  be  [jerformed  according  to  ability  (92). 

The  Tul&Bi  or  Ttnlsi  plant  (holy  basil)  Is  found  in  almost  every  Hindu's  house  in 
India.  It  is  h4t?ld  sacrtMi  to  Vifihnu,  and  is  supposed  to  be  pervaded  vriih  the  essence  ot 
his  oooaort.  Once  every  jenr,  in  every  Maratha  family,  the  idol  of  the  youthful  KHahna 
ia  mMTied  to  this  holy  baail,  with  great  rejoiciii|grB.  Colonel  Yule  tells  me  that  this  plaat 
U  also  venerated  by  the  people  of  S icily ,  pi-obably  for  its  sanitary  properties. 

f  It  is  a  remarkable  characteristic  of  the  Svami-Narayana  sect  that  picturee,  inatefui 
of  tmigeB*  are  uaed  in  some  of  their  t^mple^. 



"Everyday  all  my  followers  should  go  to  the  Temple  of  God,  and  there 
repeat  the  Barnes  of  Krishna  {G3). 

**  The  story  of  his  Hfe  .should  be  listened  to  with  the  greatest  reverence,  and 
hymns  in  \n%  praise  should  be  sung  on  festive  clays  (64). 

*^  All  males  and  females  who  go  to  Krishna's  temple  should  keep  separate 
and  not  touch  each  otlier  (40). 

"  Vishnu,  S'iva,  Gana-pati  (or  Ganes'a),  Parvatl,  and  the  Sun ;  these  five 
deities  should  be  honoured  with  worship  (84), 

"  Nrirfiyana  and  S'iva  nhowld  be  equally  regai^ded  as  part  of  one  and  the  same 
Supreme  Spirit,  eiuce  both  have  been  declared  in  the  Vedas  to  be  forms  of 
Brahmsl  (47). 

'*0n  no  lUTount  let  it  be  Bupjx>sed  that  diffei'ence  in  forais  (or  names)  makes 
any  difference  in  the  identity  of  the  deity  (112). 

*'  Tliat  which  abides  within  the  soul  in  the  character  of  its  internal  i-egulator 
(aniiiiT/ditiiUti/d)  shoidd  be  regarded  as  the  self-existent  Supreme  Being  who 
assigns  a  recompense  to  every  act  (107). 

*^'That  Being,  known  by  various  names— such  as  tlie  glorious  Krishna, 
Parain  Brahma,  Bhagavait,  Purtishottania— tlie  cause  of  all  manifestations,  it* 
to  be  adored  by  us  as  our  one  chosen  deity  (108). 

"■Having  perceived,  by  abstract  meditation,  that  the  sod  is  distinct  from  its 
three  bodies  (vi?..  the  gross,  subtle,  and  causal  l>odies)  and  tliat  it  is  a  portion 
of  the  Supreme  Soul  of  the  Universe  (limhmii)  every  man  ought  to  worship 
Krishna  by  means  of  that  soul  at  all  times  (116). 

**  Tow^ards  him  alono  ought  all  worship  to  l>e  directed  by  every  human 
being  on  tbe  earth  in  e\'ery  possible  manner.  Nothing  else  except  faith 
{hhatti)  in  him  can  procure  salvation  (113). 

^'  The  twice-born  should  perform  at  the  proper  seasons,  and  according  to 
their  moans,  the  twelve  purificatory  rites  *  (safrnhh-a),  the  (six)  daily  duties,t 
and  the  S'ruddha  offerings  to  the  spirits  of  departed  ancestors  (1*1). 

"  The  eleventh  day  of  the  waxing  and  waning  moon  should  Ijc  observed  as 
fasts,  also  the  birthday  of  Krishna  i  also  the  night  of  S'iva  {S^rva-rdtri)  with 
rejoicings  during  the  day  (71*). 

*VA  pilgrimage  to  the  Tirthas,  or  holy  places^  of  which  Dvaraka  (Krishna^s 
city  in  Gujarat)  is  the  chief,  sliouhl  be  i>erformed  according  to  rule.  Alms- 
giving and  kind  acts  towards  tlie  poor  should  always  l>e  performed  (83). 

**  A  tithe  of  one's  income  should  be  assigned  to  Krislma;  the  poor  should 
give  a  twentieth  part  (147). 

*'  Those  males  and  females  of  my  followers  who  will  act  according  to  these 
directions  shall  certainly  obtain  the  fonr  great  objects  of  all  human  desires — 
religious  merit,  wealth,  pleasure,  and  beatitude  (206)," 

My  next  paper  mil  treat  of  one  other  imporf^ant  Vaisbnava  sect 
founded  by  Chaitanya  and  some  remaining  phases  of  Indian  religioue 
thought,  including  the  chief  doctiines  of  the  Kablr-panthis,  Sikhs, 
Jaine^  and  Indo-Zoroaetrians  or  Parsls  of  the  Bombay  Presidency. 

MoNiER  Williams. 


•  Of  tliese  only  six  are  now  generally  performed,  viz. :— 1.  the  birth-ceremony,  car 
touching  the  tongue  of  a  new  horn  infout  with  oliirified  butter,  &c. ;  2,  the  name-giving 
ceremony  on  the  10th  cby ;  3,  tonsure ;  4,  induction  into  the  privileges  of  the  twice- 
born,  by  investiture  with  tlie  sacred  thr«Eidi  5,  solemn  return  home  from  the  house  of  a 
preceptor  after  completing  the  prescribed  course  of  study  ;  6,  marriage. 

t  Ihe  BIX  daily  duties  (caHedNitya-kflrman)  according  to  Fares 'ara  axe  ; — 1,  Ablution; 
Z,  morning  and  evening  prayer  (sandhya)  ;  8,  offerings  to  fire  (homa);  4,  repetition  <  ' 
t^6  Veda ;  5>  worship  of  ancestors ;  6^  worship  of  the  gods. 



THE  Session  of  1878.  if  little  remarkable  for  the  attention  given 
to  domestic  legislation,  will  be  gratefully  remembered  by  tLe 
people  of  London  for  having  brought  to  a  final  settlement  the  litiga- 
tion and  official  inqnirieBj  which  for  more  than  fifteen  years  have  held 
in  gnspense  the  fate  of  Epping  Forest.  This  forest  consisted,  in  1851, 
of  not  less  than  six  thousand  acres,  and  extended  over  a  length  of 
thirteen  inilee,  from  within  two  miles  of  London,  to  the  villago  of 
Epping,  with  a  varying  breadth  of  from  one  to  two  miles.  Of  this  area 
rather  more  than  the  half  was  ruthlessly  and  illegally  enclosed,  between 
the  years  1850  and  1870,  by  persons  having  Kniited  rights  in  the  soil* 
The  effect  of  the  settlement  is  to  restore  nearly  the  whole  of  these  acres 
to  the  forest,  to  abate  the  fences  which  shot  out  the  public  from  their 
fonner  haunts,  and  to  reinstate  nature  in  its  sylvan  throne.  So  gi-eat 
a  recovery  of  stolen  property  has  never  been  effected,  whether  having 
regard  to  the  extent  and  intrinsic  value  of  the  land»  the  magnitude  of 
the  interests  involved,  or  the  number  of  persons  implicated.  Nor  were 
the  means  by  which  this  restitution  was  effected  less  curious  and  in* 
teresting;  they  supply  an  illustration  of  the  illogical  and  pedantic 
methods  of  English  procedure,  whether  in  the  Law  Courts  or  in  the 
Legislature*  In  any  other  country  in  Europe  the  subject  would  have 
been  taken  in  hand  by  the  Executive  Government ;  illegalities  would 
have  been  repressed  vrith  a  strong  hand;  and  the  forest  would  have 
been  preserved  for  the  use  of  the  public  by  simply  maintaining  the 
itatu$  qtto.  In  England  the  rescue  of  the  forest  has  been  due  to  private 
agencies,  to  voluntary  societies,  and  to  the  happy  chance  that  the 
Corporation  of  London  was  possessed  of  a  Cemetery  to  which  rights 
of  common  were  attached,  and  which  gave  it  a  legal  standpoint  for 
reeisting  and  abating  enclosures  in  the  forest. 



Epping  Forest  was  io  bygone  times  a  pai-t  of  the  much  wider  range 
of  Waltham  Forest,  a  district  extending  over  sixty  thousand  acres,  to 
which  Manwood's  definition  of  a  royal  forest  applied,  "  a  territory  of 
woody  grounds  aud  fmitful  pastures,  privileged  for  wild  beasts  and 
fowls  of  forest  chase  and  warren  to  rest  and  abide  tliere  in  the  safe  pro- 
tection of  the  king,  for  his  delight  and  pleasure."  This  district  was 
not  all  wootiland  or  waste ;  probably  not  more  than  one-fifth  of  its 
area,  even  iti  early  times,  was  in  this  condition.  The  remainder  was 
cultivated  and  enclosed  land  ;  but  it  was  forest  in  the  sense  that  the 
forest  laws  apphed  to  the  whole  of  its  area.  These  laws  were  framed 
with  a  view  to  maintain  the  right  of  the  sovereign  to  sport  over  the 
district.  No  fences  could  be  maint-ained  liigh  enough  to  keep  out  a 
doe  with  her  fawn.  No  buildings  could  be  erected  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  authorities.  No  woods  could  be  cut  down.  No  change 
could  be  made  in  the  cultivation  of  the  land  mthout  consent  of  the 
forest  authorities.  Game,  great  and  small,  and  especially  deer,  was 
protected  by  most  severe  laws,  enforced  in  comets  pecuhar  to  the 
forest,  by  ofiicers  responsible  to  the  sovereign.  Such  forests  answered 
to  the  Capitameries  in  France,  vast  districts  over  which  the  sove- 
reign or  feudal  lords  had  rights  of  sporting  irrespective  of  the  owner- 
ship of  the  soil,  and  where  game  was  maintained  without  regard  to 
the  interests  of  the  owners  and  occupiers ;  numerous  cases  of  tliis 
kind  existed  up  to  the  time  of  the  Revolution  of  1789,  when  they  were 
swept  away  with  other  feudal  privileges. 

What  was  strictly  forest  in  the  district  of  Waltham  was  confined  to 
two  wide  ranges,  the  one  kno^^Ti  as  Epping  Forest  wliioh  consisted  of 
about  six  thousand  acres,  the  other  Hainault  Forest  of  four  thousand 
acres.  There  nature  was  allowed  an  undisputed  sway;  the  forest  trees 
existed  much  as  they  had  from  before  the  time  of  Edward  the  Con* 
fessor;  the  deer  roamed  freely,  and  were  not  even  confined  by  fence 
or  waD  ;  the  public  had  everywhere  access  to  them  j  and  the  only  right 
conflicting  or  concurrent  with  that  of  the  Ci^own  was  the  right  of  all 
the  freeholders  and  occupiers  within  the  range  of  Waltham  Forest,  by 
way  of  compensation  for  their  subjection  to  Forest  Law,  to  hirn  out 
their  cattle  (not  off^ensive  to  the  deer)  in  the  waste  and  wood- 
land. The  Crown,  beyond  it»  forestal  rights,  had  little  property 
within  the  limits  of  Waltham  Forest ;  before  the  Reformation  the 
greater  niunher  of  the  manors  were  in  the  poseession  of  the  wealthy 
Abbeys  of  Waltham,  Stratford,  and  Barking  *  but  on  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  monasteries,  in  the  reign  of  Heniy  VI II.,  most  of  these 
manors  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Crown,  and  were  subse- 
quently re  granted  to  private  individuals,  favourites  of  the  sovereign, 
from  whom  they  have  descended  to  their  present  owners.  The 
extensive  waste  belonging  to  the  Abbey  of  Barking,  coustituting  the 
greater  part  of  what  has  been  popularly  known  8is  Hainault  Forest, 
was  retained  by  the  Cro%vn,  and  the  forest  was  preserved  till  1851, 









Trhen  it  was  diaafforeBted,  enclosed,  and  converted  into  amble  lands 
aad  farmB.* 

The  motive  which  induced  the  destruction  of  this  foi-est  was  the 

impiovem^it  of  the  revennee  of  the  Crown  lands;  and  probably  the 

same  fate  would  have  overtaken  the  Forest  of  Eppmg,  at  a  time  when 

the  value  of  such  a  district  from  an  ^Esthetic  and  sanitary  point  of 

imw  was  not  as  jet  recognized,  had  the  Cro^vn  been  the  owner  of  its 

mk    Fortunately,  however,  the  interest  of  the  Crown  in  Epping  con- 

ainted  only  in  its  forestal  rights.    The  ownei-ship  of  the  soil  was  vested 

r  in  the  lords  of  eighteen  different  Manors  within  the  area  of  the  Forest 

t  of  Waltham.      This  ownership  was  little   more   than  a  barren  and 

valueless  right,  for  it  was  subject  in  the  first  place  to  the  forestal  rights 

ti>f  the  Crown,  which  forbade  the  cutting  down  of  any  trees  in  the 

>re8t,  and  ousted  them  from  the  pri\41ege  of  other  lords  of  manors, 

of  sporting  over  the  waste;  and  secondly,  to  the  rights  of  the 

conamonei-s  of  titming  out  cattle  on  the  wa^te. 

The  law  of  the  forest  was  maintained  and  put  in  force  by  special 

courts,  and  by  an  elabomte  machinery,  intended  to  preserve  the  rights 

the  Crown^  and  to  prevent  enclosure  or  trespass.     Four  verderers, 

looted  by  the  freeholders  within  the  forest,  assisted  in  this  duty,  and 

ij^hole  was  under  the   authority  of  an  hereditary  lord  warden, 

responsible  to  the  Crown,     At  the  commencement  of  this  century 

these    courts   appear  to  have   fallen  into    disnse.      The  gi-owth   of 

Liondon,  and  the  immediate  proximity  of  a  large  population,  made  it 

naore  difficult  to  maintain  the  foreet  laws ;  and  the  sovereign  ceased 

to  visit  the  district  for  sporting  purposes.     The  old  use  of  the  forest 

came  therefore  to  be  disregarded,  while  its  new  value  in  relation  to 

le  great  population  of  London  was  as  yet  scarcely  perceived  or 

"" appreciated.     It  is  only  within  recent  years  that  this  has  been  recog- 

Inizod;  and  till  then  pubh'c  opinion  was  decidedly  adveme  to  the  con- 
tinued existence  of  such  forests,  mindful  rather  of  the  vices  and  hard- 
ships of  the  forest  laws,  sympathizing  rather  with  the  owners  of 
property  against  tho  claims  of  the  Crown,  and  looking  with  utilitarian 
views  to  the  greater  return  which  might  be  obtained  from  so  much 
waste  land,  if  enclosed  and  cultivated.  So  late  as  1848  a  Committee 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  presided  over  by  Lord  Duncan,  took  this 
view^  of  the  forest,  and  recommended  that  the  Crown  should  sell  its 
forestal  rights  to  the  lords  of  manors  within  the  forest,  a  course  which 
.  was  unfortimately  adopted  by  the  Commissioners  of  Woods  and  ForesfeR 
^ft  The  Crown  rights  over  about  half  the  forest  were  thus  paHed  with  to 
^"  those  Lords  of  Manors  who  would  buy  them,  at  the  rate  of  £6  per  acre. 
I  The  deer  were  Idlled  down  :  and  no  effort  was  made  to  maintain  the 
^^  Crown  rights  over  the  remainder  of  the  forest. 
^P      Even  before  this,  the  Elarl  of  Momington,  a  dissolute  spendthpfi^ 

^^       •  Pot  an  interestiiig  acx:oTmt  of  the  early  history  of  the  Forest,  see  Mr,  Robert 
Honter^t  TreftUse  tm  ine  Epping'  Foreet  Act,  1878 :  Dfttis  &  Son. 

.  can 



who  through  his  wife  had  become  hereditaiy  lord  warden  of  the  forest,^ 
and  o%\Tierof  four  of  the  manors  within  its  range,  had  done  his  best  to 
ruin  the  forest.  He  reduced  the  Verderers*  Court  to  impotence  by 
appointing  his  owd  solicitor  to  be  its  steward,  and,  in  lieu  of  main* 
tainiixg  the  forest,  as  he  was  bonnd  in  duty  to  do^  led  the  way  himself 
to  its  destmction,  by  enclosing  and  appropriating  a  great  part  of  its 
waste  within  his  own  manors.  His  example  was  followed  by  many 
others.  In  1863  pubUc  attention  was  attracted  to  these  illegalities. 
A  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  reported  that  the  forest  was 
being  destroyed  without  regard  to  the  rights  of  the  Crown ;  they 
recommended  that  the  Crown  should  enforce  its  forestal  rights  with 
a  yiew  to  prevent  and  abate  enclosures ;  but  with  a  strange  incon- 
sistency they  advised  that  a  scheme  should  be  prepared  for  enclosing 
legally  the  remaining  part,  of  the  forest,  reeei-ving  only  a  part  of  it 
**  for  the  purpose  of  health  and  recreation,  which  had  from  time  im- 
memorial been  enjoyed  by  the  inhabitants  of  London." 

Two  years  later  public  opinion  more  cmphalicaUy  declared  itself. 
Another  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  investigated  generally 
the  condition  of  the  Commons  and  open  spaces  m  the  neighbourhood  of 
London,  mcludiug  Epping  Forest.  Their  repoii;  was  the  turnhig  point 
of  a  new  poHcy.  It  fully  recoginzed  that  the  public  interest  required 
tlie  maititenance  of  these  open  spaces  in  their  integrity.  It  sliowed 
that  the  area  of  such  connnous  within  twelve  miles  of  the  centre  of 
the  metropolis,  including  six  thousand  acres  of  Epping  Forest^  con- 
sisted of  not  less  than  fourteen  thousand  acres ;  but  that;  large  as  this 
area  was,  it  was  so  valuable,  immediately  and  prospectively,  to  the 
population  of  London  for  health  and  recreation,  that  it  could  not 
safely  be  reduced ;  and  that  every  means  should  be  taken  to  prevent 
the  enclosure  of  any  part  of  it. 

Two  opposite  views  were  maintained  before  the  Committee  as  to 
the  legal  position  of  these  Commons,  and  as  to  the  best  mode  of  pre- 
venting  their  enclosure.  According  to  the  one  view,  that  of  the  lords 
of  manors  and  their  legal  agents,  the  Commons,  including  Epping, 
were  pmctically  their  private  property,  free  from  any  right  of  or  obliga- 
tion to  the  public  or  the  commoners.  It  was  contended  that  the 
public  by  immemorial  tiser  had  acquired  no  right ;  that  the  rights  of 
the  commoners  had  vanished  by  non-user ;  and  that  under  the  Common 
Law  and  by  the  Statute  of  Merton,  the  lords  were  justified  in  enclosing 
and  appropriating  these  open  spaces.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  main- 
tained tliat  whatever  might  be  the  right  of  the  public,  the  Commons 
were  practically  protected  from  enclosure  by  the  common  rights  still 
existing  and  vested  in  the  owners  and  occupiers  of  adjoining  property; 
that  these  rights,  though  httle  used  in  consequence  of  the  growth  of 
population,  were  dormant*  not  extinct,  and  could  be  maintained  for 
the  puipose  of  abating  enclosures ;  and  that  all  the  experience  of  the 
past*  as  represented  in  the  thousands  of  private  Enclosure  Acts,  and 




le  General  Enclosure  Act  of  1845,  showed  that  enclosure,  whether  by 
Common  Law  or  under  the  pretence  of  the  Statute  of  Merton,  however 
theoretically  possible,  was  practically  impossible  and  illegal  unlees 
aanctioned  by  Parliament.  The  Committee,  taking  this  last  view  of 
the  subject,  advised  against  a  scheme,  propounded  by  the  Metro- 
politan Board,  for  the  compulsory  purchase  of  the  forest  and  commons, 
which  would  have  resulted  in  a  vast  expenditure  of  the  ratepayers' 
money,  to  secure  that  which  had  always  if e  facto  been  enjoyed.  They 
tecommended  a  scheme  for  placing  these  spaces  under  proper  regula- 
tion and  management,  so  as  to  prevent  nuisances  and  to  preserve 
order,  leaving  all  existing  rights  untouched.  This  suggestion  was 
adopted  by  the  Government  of  the  day,  and  was  embodied  in  the 
Metropolitan  Commons  Act.  The  Act,  however,  did  not  extend  to 
Epping;  with  respect  to  this  Foregt,  the  Committee  recommended  that 
the  Crown  should  put  in  force  its  forestal  rights  for  the  abatement  of 

The  Report  of  this  Committee  was  followed  by  important  conse- 
quences, and  led  to  a  course  of  litigation  wthout  parallel  for  its  dura- 
^tion,  the  impoiiance  of  its  issues,  and  its  historical  interest.  Each  party 
the  great  controversy  before  the  Committee  proceeded  to  act  upon 
views.  The  lords  of  manors  of  numerous  Commons  round  London, 
mud  especially  of  the  eighteen  manors  of  Epping  Forest,  commenced 
wholesale  course  of  enclosure,  which  put  in  issue  their  contention  as 
their  rights,  in  the  most  practical  manner,  and  which,  if  imcon- 
est^,  would  have  speedily  led  to  the  disappearance,  not  only  of  the 
fore^t^  but  of  all  the  most  valued  commons  near  London.  Within 
a  short  time,  nearly  three  thousand  acres  of  the  forest  were  abstracted 
iVom  it,  and  enclosed  with  fences.  The  Commons  of  Berkhampstead, 
Plumstead,  Tooting,  and  Bostall,  were  wholly,  or  in  great  part, 
closed ;  Hampstead  Heath,  and  many  others,  were  threatened,  and 
fWDuld  doubtless  soon  have  been  engulfed. 

The  opponents  to  this  view  of  the  right  to  enclose  were  not  idle  ; 
4hey  formed  a  Society  for  the  purpose  of  resisting,  or  advising  and 
ting  in  resistance  to,  these  encroachments.    What  the  Committee 
ad  predicted    came   to   pass;   as  each   common  was    enclosed  or 
menaced,  local  opposition  was  aroused,  which  only  needed  advice  to 
ommence   active  proceedings  against  the  wrong-doers.     In   most 
lee,  wealthy  villa-holders  foraied  committees  and  raised  funds  to 
cppose  the  aggressoi-s  in  the  law  com-te,  or  public-spirited  men  took  upon 
themselves  the  burthen  of  resistance.     In  the  case  of  Berkhampstead, 
where  six  hundred  acres  were  enclosed  by  the  late  Earl  Brownlow 
and  added  to  his  park,  Mr.  Augustus  Smith,  well  known  as  the  Lord 
f  SciUy,  \nndicated  his  right  as  a  commoner,  after  the  manner  well 
recognized  by  the  law  aa  a  legitimate  method  of  dealing  with  an 
illegal  encroachment ;  he  sent  down  tw  o  hundred  men  to  Berkhamp- 
stead, who  in  one  night  removed  the  irou  fences  which  engirdled  the 
vol*.  XrXlV.  E 



stolen  common.  At  Pliimstead,  Sir  Julian  Goldsmid  took  the  leading 
part  against  the  enclosure.  At  HainpBtead  the  late  Mn  Giirney  Hoare 
jdined  with  his  neighbours  in  orgam'zing  reBiBtance.  At  Tooting, 
Wimbledon,  Wandsworth,  and  other  Bubiirban  places,  committees 
were  formed  for  protecting  their  Commons, 

In  Epping,  where  the  cnclosnres  were  on  the  largest  and  most 
threatening  scale,  great  difBculty  w^as  foimd  in  making  effective 
reeiBtance.  The  local  landowners  who  had  common  rights,  were  as  a 
mle  more  in  favour  of  enclosure  than  opposed  to  it ;  they  w^ere  not 
unwilling  to  share  in  the  spoil*  and  many  of  them  received  allotments 
of  the  forest  There  was  wanting  the  class  of  resident  villa-holders* 
such  as  generally  own  the  property  adjoining  other  Commons,  who 
are  more  pei-sonally  interested  in  keeping  them  open  than  in  dividing 
them  when  enclosed.  The  Buxton  family,  almost  alone  among  the 
larger  landowners  of  that  part  of  Eseex,  stood  firm  in  their  opposition 
to  the  en  closure  of  the  forest,  and  were  ready  to  support  measures  for 
resisting  it. 

The  contention  of  the  lords  of  manors  was  that  the  Forest  conaiBted 
of  a  number  of  distinct  and  separate  manors,  and  w^as  not  a  common 
w^aste  over  w^hich  all  tlie  landowners  of  the  forestal  district  of  Waltham 
had  rights.  In  this  view  they  had  each  to  deal  only  w^th  the  com- 
paratively few  tenants  of  their  own  manors,  and  could  disregard  the 
great  body  of  commoners  over  the  mder  district*  The  contentiou 
had  no  historical  or  legal  justification.  But  the  prize  within  their 
grasp  was  enormous.  The  forest  land  was  w^orth  £300  to  £1,000  per 
acre  for  building  purposes.  It  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that 
greedy  hands  were  laid  upon  this  tempting  prey,  and  that  difficulty 
was  found  in  rousing  any  action  among  the  local  landowners  against 
the  spoliation. 

Impunity  in  the  earher  cases  begat  recklessness.  Enclosures  were 
made  wholestile,  and  in  a  short  time  the  whole  forest  would  have  dis- 
appeared. In  one  of  the  largest  manors  of  the  forest,  that  of  Loughton, 
the  lord,  who  was  also  Kector  of  the  parish^  enclosed  in  one  swoop 
thirteen  hundred  acres,  and  commenced  to  fell  the  trees.  Thre^ 
hundred  of  these  acres  he  was  good  enough  to  divide  among  those  of 
his  neighboiuTi  whose  common  rights  he  recognized.  A  pitiful  plot  of 
twelve  acres  was  set  apart  for  the  school-children  and  the  pubUc,  but 
not  a  rood  of  land  for  garden  allotments  for  the  labouring  poor.  The 
magnitude  of  tliia  transaction,  the  scandal  it  created,  and  the  alann  it 
gave  rise  to  as  to  the  remainder  of  the  forest,  assisted  in  working  its 
own  retribution;  and  the  first  attempt,  therefore,  to  deal  with  the 
Epping  enclosiu-es  arose  out  of  this  Loughton  case. 

In  this  manor  the  inhabitants  had,  from  time  immemorial,  claimed 
and  exercised  the  right  o(  lopping  the  trees  for  fire^vood,  during  the 
winter  months.  The  tradition  was  that  the  right  had  been  granted 
by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  the  poor  of  the  parish,  with  the  condition  that 






on  the  11th  of  November  of  each  year  they  should  perambiilate  the 
Forest^  and  that  the  eldest  of  them  should  strike  an  axe  iuto  one  of 
the  trees.  Certain  it  is  that  this  custom  had  been  maintained  for 
many  generations,  and  the  labouring  poor  derived  great  advantage 
from  this  privilege,  though  of  late  years  it  had  been  somewhat  abused 
by  the  sale  of  firewood  and  by  the  intrusion  of  persons  from  a  distance. 
In  defiance  of  the  enclosure,  an  old  labouring  man  named  Willingale, 
whose  name  is  now  associated  with  the  preservation  of  the  forest, 
pereisted  with  his  two  sons  in  exercising  this  right.  They  were 
summoned  by  the  lord  of  the  manor  before  the  local  Justices  and  were 
afent  to  prison  with  hard  labour,  although  they  protested  their  right, 
which  should  have  ousted  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Justices,  of  whom 
one,  at  least,  had  received  a  share  of  the  stolen  forest. 

These  high-handed  proceedings  roused  pubHc  attention,  and  Willin- 
gale  was  advised  to  commence  legal  proceedings  in  support  of  the  right 
of  the  inhabitants  to  lop  the  forest  trees,  a  right  which,  if  sustained 
at  law,  would  have  preserved  and  kept  open  the  forest.  He  was  sus- 
tained in  this  course  by  the  Society  I  have  alluded  to,  and  to  a  great 
extent  by  the  aid  of  Sir  T,  Fowell  Buxton.  Another  suit  was  also 
commenced  in  the  name  of  a  smaU  freeholder.  These  proceedings 
restrained  the  lord  of  the  manor,  pending  the  detennination  of  rights, 
firora  felling  the  forest  trees,  and  cutting  up  into  building  plots  the 
one  thousand  acres  he  had  enclosed.  A  thorough  investigation  was 
then  made  of  the  court  rolls  of  the  manor,  and  of  the  legal  position 
of  the  forest;  and  although  Willingale  died  before  his  suit  could  be 
decided,  the  proceedings  iu  his  case,  extending  over  four  years,  during 
which  the  forest  was  practically  protected  from  further  devastation, 
were  greatly  mstrumental  in  sa\dng  it. 

In  the  meantime  the  otlier  great  suits  respecting  the  London 
commons  were  proceeded  with.  It  resulted  from  the  movement  and 
from  the  exertions  and  assistance  of  the  parent  Society,  that  a 
community  of  interest  was  established  between  them  ;  the  important 
suit^  eight  or  nine  in  number,  were  conducted  by  the  same  solicitor, 
which  gave  a  great  advantage  in  the  general  direction  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. The  law  involved  in  the  maintenance  of  common  rights 
waa  intricate  and  almost  obsolete.  Much  of  the  older  lawliad  seldom 
come  under  the  attention  of  lawyers  of  the  present  day.  It  was 
necessary  to  bo  very  careful  not  to  force  decisions  upon  the  Courts 
with  imdue  haste.  Even  the  highest  tribunals  of  the  country  are  not 
impervious  to  public  opinion  representing  the  general  tone  and  senti- 
ment of  the  community.  The  insietance  of  a  technical  right,  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  open  a  common  for  a  totally  different  object, 
might  at  one  time  be  considered  as  scarcely  worthy  of  the  aid  of  the 
courts  of  law ;  whereas  at  another  time,  and  with  an  universal  desire 
to  save  the  commons,  it  would  be  grasped  at  and  welcomed  as  a 
most  timely  and  efficient  weapon  for  the  purpose. 

E  2 



In  this  view,  then,  the  Commons  cases  were  marshalled  by  the  able? 
eolicitois  who  had  charge  of  them,  so  as  gradually  to  lead  the  courts 
of  law"  back  to  the  older  view  of  the  value  of  rights  of  eomnioo; 
and  decieions  wx*re  obtained  which  strengthened  public  opinion  in 
favour  oi  the  course  pursued.  In  the  Berkhampstead  case,  the  first  to 
come  to  a  hearing,  the  proceedings  of  Jlr,  Augustus  Smith  were  fully 
justified ;  it  was  shown  that  the  piilling  down  of  fences  w^ae  not  bo 
violent  an  act  as  that  of  putting  them  up,  where  there  was  no  right  to 
do  so.  It  was  decided  that  the  lord  of  the  manor  who  encloses  must 
take  the  burthen  of  proving  that  he  has  left  sufiicient  waate  for  the 
commoners,  happily  a  thing  which  it  is  generally  impossible  to  do.  It  is 
Binfi:idar  that  the  investigation  of  this  case  showed  that  an  almost  iden- 
tical enclosui  c  of  this  Common  had  been  made  by  Charles  I*  when 
Piince  of  Wales,  and,  in  virtue  of  the  Ducliy  of  Cornwall,  lord  of  this 
manor  of  Berkhampstead,  and  that  one  of  the  commoners  had  then 
summoned  five  thousand  of  hie  neighbours,  who  forcibly  destroyed 
the  fences.  For  this  act  the  commoner  was  imprisoned  by  the  House 
of  Lords  for  contempt  of  the  Piince^s  prerogative ;  but,  not  the  less, 
the  Common  was  left  open  till  Lord  Brownlow,  in  the  present  genera- 
tion, made  a  fresh  assault  upon  it.  The  Plumstead  case  decided  tlrnt 
freeholders  of  a  manor  had  equal  rights  with  copyholders.  The 
wrongful  enclosers  in  this  case  were  the  Fellows  of  Queen  s  College, 
Oxford,  and  in  deciding  this  case  Lord  Hatherley  made  use  of  this 
strong  expression  i — 

*'Tlie  litigatiDii  1ms  Ijcen  occasioiietl  by  a  liigh-lianded  assertion  of  riglit  uu 
tbe  part  of  the  001101(0,  wlio  really  seem  to  have  said  in  effect  to  those  whcr 
have  been  exercising  their  rights  for  two  hundred  years ;  *  You  will  be  in  a 
difficulty  to  prove  how  you  have  exercised  them;  we  will  jmt  you  to  that 
[iroof  by  enclosing  and  taking"  possession  of  your  property.'  I  tlnrik.  therefore, 
the  whole  expense  ought  to  fall  on  those  who  liave  occasioned  it,  namely, 
those  who  have  bronght  into  <|nestion  rights  which  have  had  so  long  a 
duration,  aud  to  which  I  aui  thanitful  to  be  able  to  discover  (because  it  is  the^ 
duty  of  the  court  tt>  discover  if  it  can)  a  legal  origin."* 

The  case  of  Tooting  Common  was  also  decided  in  favour  of  the 
inhabitante*  In  other  eases  satisfactory  arrangements  were  anived  at* 
Wimbledon  and  Wandsworth  Commons  were  preserved  by  securing  to 
Lord  Spencer  an  annuity,  cliargeable  upon  the  local  mtes,  equal  to 
his  average  receipts  as  b>rd  of  these  manors.  The  Metropolitan  Board, 
which  had  never  quite  abandoned  its  plan  of  purchase,  intei"vened  in 
the  Hampstead  case^  aud  bought  the  rights  of  the  lord  of  the  manor  at 

price  infinitely  below  that  originally  claimed  by  him  before  the 

it.  Other  commons,  such  as  Blackheath,  BameSj  Shepherd's  Bush,  and 
otherp,  were  bought  under  the  Bletropolitan  Commons  Act,  and  were 
subjected  to  regulation  and  management. 

There  Btill  remained,  however,  the  case  of  Epping  Forest,     The 

•  Wartrick  v.  Qneea'i  CoUego,  Oxford  i  La^r  B^ports,  1871 




invefitigation  of  the  legal  position  of  the  forest,  in  the  Willingdle  ca^e, 
showed  that  a  much  longer  purse  was  necessary  to  unraYel  its 
mtricacies,  and  deal  effectuallj  with  its  spoliation,  than  cotild  possibly 
be  provided  by  private  persons  and  societies.  The  Metropolitan 
Board,  however,  declined  to  act>  on  the  ground  that  the  area  to  be 
dealt  with  was  beyond  its  jurisdiction,  and  that  it  coold  not  charge 
itaelf  with  any  payments  in  compensation  of  manorial  or  proprietary 
rights.  Assistance  was  then  songht  for  in  other  directions.  It  was 
ttoertained  that  the  Corpoi-ation  of  London,  as  owners  of  a  Cemetery 
withiB  the  range  of  Walthani  Forest,  had  rights  of  common  which 
wonld  enable  them  to  fight  the  battle,  and  application  was  made  to 
them  to  xmdertake  this  great  question  in  the  interest  of  the  public. 
About  the  same  time,  motions  were  also  made  in  the  House  of  Cora* 
mons  calling  for  the  intervention  of  the  Government.  Mr.  Fawcett 
in  1870  carried  an  address  to  the  Crown  praying  Her  Majesty  to  take 
steps  that  the  forest  might  be  kept  open  for  the  enjoyment  of  the 
public.  Tlds  was  followed  by  the  abortive  and  misatisfactory  proposal 
of  Mr.  Ayiion,  by  which  five  thonsand  of  the  six  thousand  acres  wonld 
have  been  abandoned  to  the  lordK  of  the  manors  and  commoners,  and 
lost  to  the  Forest ;  a  proposal  which  died  a  natural  death  in  the  fiice 
0f  a  hostile  resolution  by  Mr.  Fawcett ;  and  in  the  folio  mug  year 
Mr.  Cowper-Temple  carried  against  the  Government  another  address 
to  the  Crown,  calling  upon  it  to  preserve  those  parts  of  Epping  Forest 
which  had  not  been  enclosed  by  legal  authority. 

Personally  I  had  not  been  favourable  to  an  application  to  Parliament 
on  the  subject;  I  had  no  faith  in  the  possibility  of  putting  in  force  the 
forestal  rights  of  the  Crown,  in  view  of  the  ^'irtual  abandonment  of 
them^  the  disappearance  of  the  deer,  and  the  decay  of  the  forest 
courts,  and  I  feared  a  compromise  from  any  scheme  which  might  be 
propounded  by  a  Commission  or  Government  Department.  I  beUeved 
that  the  better  coni'se  was  to  meet  the  aggressoi-s  in  the  courts  of  law, 
on  behalf  of  the  commoners'  rights,  and  I  was  confident  that  the 
law,  if  prosecuted  with  spirit  and  with  ample  funds,  would  be  equal 
to  the  task  of  abating  those  enclosures.  Experience  has  sliown, 
however,  that  both  courses  were  expedient,  and  that  both  contributed 
to  the  ultimate  success.  On  the  one  hand,  in  answer  to  Mr,  Cowper 
Temple's  address^  the  Government  passed  an  Act  creating  a  special 
Commission  to  investigate  the  legal  condition  of  Epping  Forest,  and 
to  report  a  scheme  to  Parliament  for  the  preservation  and  manage- 
ment of  so  much  of  it  as  had  not  been  lawfully  enclosed  or  was  still 
Bubject  to  the  Crown's  forestal  rights.  On  the  other  hand,  the  main 
battle  was  fought  and  won  in  the  ftiw  courts.  The  Corporation  of 
Loudon  was  induced  to  take  up  the  cause  of  the  public,  and  to  put  in 
force  its  common  rights  in  respect  of  its  cemetery,  for  the  purpose  of 
abating  the  forest  enclosures.  It  commenced  a  suit  in  the  year  1871, 
against  all  the  lords  of  manors  within  Epping  Forest  who  had  made 



enclosures,  and  against  two  representativeB  of  the  clasB  of  personB  hold- 
ij]g  land  by  purchase  from  tlie  wrongful  enclosers.  In  the  following  year 
a  further  Act  was  passed,  restraining,  while  the  Commismon  lasted,  aU 
legal  proceedings  in  respect  of  Epping  Forest,  'w^th  the  exception  of 
the  Corporation  euit,  which  was  allowed  to  proceed,  with  a  view  to 
obtain  a  legal  determination  of  the  great  interests  involved ;  and  hence 
it  resulted  that  two  gi*eat  inquiries  as  to  the  legal  condition  of  the 
forest  were  proceeded  with  at  the  same  time,  the  one  by  a  Royal 
Commission,  and  the  other  before  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  at  the  suit 
of  the  Coiporation  of  London. 

The  main  subject  of  investigation  in  both  cases  was  the  legal 
relation  of  the  lords  of  manors  to  the  Forest.  Was  the  forest  merely 
an  aggregation  of  separate  manors,  each  with  its  own  body  of 
commoners,  and  without  connection  with  others  ?  or  was  it  all  part  of 
the  waste  of  Waltham  Forest,  over  wMch  all  the  landowners  of  the 
much  wider  district,  embracing  no  less  than  forty-eight  thouHand  acres^ 
had  rights  of  common  t  Both  inquiries  came  to  the  same  conclusion. 
That  before  the  Rolls  Court,  which  lasted  more  than  three  yeai-s,  ended 
in  a  decision,  wliich  could  not  have  been  more  damnatory  to  the  pre- 
tensions of  the  enclosers.  "  If  I  am  right  in  the  view  which  I  have 
taken  of  the  law,"  said  the  Judge,  '*  the  defendants  have  taken  other 
persons'  property  without  their  consent,  and  have  appropriated  it  to 
their  own  use/' — a  declaration  which.  Sir  Fitzjames  Stephen  has  said, 
closely  approximated  to  the  legal  definition  of  larceny  :  there  was  the 
taking  of  other  persons'  property;  there  was  an  appropriation  to 
their  own  use ;  the  physical  nature  of  the  property  alone  prevented 
its  being  carried  away.  The  Judge  went  on  to  say  that  tlie  defen- 
dants had  disentitled  themselves  even  to  any  consideration  in  respect 
of  costs,  inasmuch  as  "  the  bulk  of  them  had  been  parties  to  a  litiga- 
tion in  which  they  had  endeavoured  to  support  their  title  by  a  vast 
bulk  of  false  evidence.*' 

The  legal  decision  thus  given  facilitated  the  conclusion  of  the  work 
of  the  Commission,  which  reported  practically  to  the  same  effect  as 
to  the  rights  afltcfcing  the  forest;  they  further  recommended  a 
scheme  for  the  future  disposition  of  the  forest,  which  would  have 
restored  and  preserved  to  the  forest  two  thousand  out  of  the  three 
thousand  acres  taken  from  it,  and  still  in  the  possession  of  the  lords  of 
manors.  The  scheme,  however,  was  unsatisfactory  in  this  respect, 
that  it  practically  left  undealt  mth  the  remaining  one  thousand  acres, 
which  had  been  illegally  taken  from  the  forest,  and  sold  or  assigned 
to  outsiders.  On  a  part  of  this  land  houses  had  been  built,  and 
gardens  planted,  by  persons  who  had  bought,  as  they  alleged,  in  good 
faith,  beheving  that  they  had  a  title ;  but  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
acres  still  remained,  either  in  the  former  condition  of  the  forest  or  un- 
built on,  and  which  were  intei-spersed  mth  the  forest  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  be  essential  to  its  preBervatiou.     The  decree  of  the  Master  of 



RoUb  applied  m  principle  to  the  whole  of  this  portionj  although  only  a 
floall  part  of  it  had  been  included  in  the  suit.  The  CommiBsioners 
recommended  a  course  which  would  have  left  the  holders  of  tliia  land 

I  ia  absolute  possession  of  it^  subject  only  to  the  possibiHty  of  the  Cor- 
poration buying  it  back  for  the  forest,  upon  the  terms  of  a  compulsory 
parchase ;  terms  so  onerous  as  to  have  precluded  such  a  course.     It 
eeemed  to  those  interested  in  the  maintenance  uf  the  forest  that  the 
holders  of  this  land  were  entitled  to  no  more  than  a  compensation  in 
money,  where  they  could  show  that  they  bought  in  good  faith  and  in 
ignorance  of  the  fact  that  the  land  had  been  wrongfully  appropriated ; 
they  contended  that  the  land  itself  should  be  restored  to  the  forest. 
Great  difficulty  arose  on  this  point,  and  the  scheme  was  nearly  wrecked 
Upon  it.    It  was  clear,  however,  that  when  the  period  limited  by  the 
£pping  Forest  Act,  for  restraining  further  Htigation,  should  come  to  an 
^Lend,  there  woiJd  be  nothing  to  prevent  any  commoner  from  eom- 
^Rbencing  proceedings  against  the  holders  of  tins  land ;  and  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  decision  of  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  would  govern  these 
HCases  aleo.     In  anticipation  of  this,  II  r.  Burney,  a  commoner  of  the 
^Boreflt,  who  had  taken  great  part  in  the  proceedings  for  the  preservation 
of  the  forest,  took  upon  himself  forcibly  to  remove  the  fences  which 
Hpurronnded  these  seven  hundred  and  fifty  acres ;  and  although  this 
^Lction   was  strongly  condemned  by  the  Master  of  the  Rolls,  as   a 
^■contravention  of  the  Epping  Forest  Act,  it  had  the  effect  of  reminding 
^Bthe  holders  of  this  land  of  their  precarious  position,  in  case  no  scheme 
^V ehould  receive  the  sanction  of  Parliament,     By  the  intervention  of  the 
Government  a  compromiae  was  then  aiTanged,  by  which  the  whole  of 
this  land  will  be  restored  to  the  forest,  together  with  the  two  thousand 
acres  in  the  hands  of  the  lords  of  the  manors ;  and  it  will  be  left  to  an 
aiUtrator,  Sir  Arthur  Hobhouse,  to  determine  what  compensation  shall 
be  given  to  the  present  holders,  in  cases  where  they  bought  in  good 
faith.     Upon  this  compromise  being  effected*  the  Act  of  last  session, 
w*hich  in  other  respects  carries  out  the  recommendations  of  the  Com- 
I        mission,  was  passed  by  Parliament  at  the  instance  of  the  Government, 
^_  without  difficulty  or  opposition. 

^H  The  scheme  practicaOy  restores  to  the  forest  two  thousand  seven 
^H  himdred  and  fifty  acres  out  of  the  three  thousand  taken  from  it  since 
^"  186L  It  provides  that  the  forest,  consisting  in  future  of  nearly  six 
thousand  acres  of  beautil'ul  wood-land,  interspersed  laath  heath  and 
^K  most  of  it  in  its  native  ^vildness,  is  to  remain  *'  open  and  unenclosed  for 
^1  the  benefit  and  recreation  of  the  people  of  London.'*  The  Corporation 
^m  of  London,  having  bought  the  rights  of  several  of  the  lords  of  manors 
f  within  the  forest  for  very  moderate  sums,  are  empowered  to  purchaBe 
the  remainder  at  a  price  to  be  determined  by  the  arbitrator.  Those 
who  have  built  houses  upon  land  t^iken  from  the  forest  are  to  be  left 
in  posBession  of  them  and  their  gardens,  subject  to  a  rent-charge  in  aid 
of  the  Forest  funds,  for  quieting  their  titles. 



The  future  maijagement  of  the  forest  is  entrusted  to  the  Corporation, 
who  have  justly  earned  the  honour  conferred  upon  them  by  their 
timely  and  pubhc-spirited  conduct,  to  the  exclneiou  of  the  Metro- 
poUtaii  Board,  but  with  the  assistance  of  four  verderers  to  be  selected 
by  the  Commoners  of  the  Waltham  district,  whose  rights  over  the 
forest  are  maintained- 

It  remains  only  to  hope  that  the  Corporation  of  London  mil  execute 
the  great  trast  committed  to  them  in  the  same  pubhc  spirit  they  have 
hitherto  Bhowii— and  above  all,  that  they  will  not  attempt  too  much. 
Their  charge  should  be  treated  as  a  time  forest  rather  than  as  a  park; 
and  the  less  they  attempt  to  interfere  with  or  regulate  the  caprice  of 
nature  itself,  the  better  will  be  the  result. 

The  success  which  has  attended  the  effort  to  restore  Epping  Forest 
and  others  of  the  Commons  round  London,  has  fidly  justified  the 
conclusions  of  the  Committee  of  1865.  It  has  shown  that  there  is 
the  strongest  presumption  that  such  enclosures  are  illegal,  and  that 
adverse  rights  invariably  exist,  which,  if  put  in  force  and  supported 
with  adequate  funds,  will  abate  these  enclosures.  By  what  a  slender 
chance,  however,  was  the  forest  saved  I  It  was  by  pure  accident  that 
the  Corporation  of  London,  in  their  capacity  of  Commissioners  of 
Sewers,  w^ere  owners  of  the  cemeterj^  to  which  ench  rights  attached. 
Cattle  may  be  '*  levant  and  couchant  *'  in  this  place  of  sepulture,  suffi- 
cient to  maintain  the  legal  right  of  pasture  in  the  Forest;  but  it  cannot 
be  supposed  that  the  right  is  of  any  real  value.  Yet  this  almost 
imaginary  right  was  sufficient,  when  backed  by  the  long  purse  of  the 
City,  to  defeat  the  enclosure  of  three  thousand  acres,  and  to  compel  no 
less  than  five  hundred  persons  to  restore  to  the  forest  their  share  of 
this  stolen  land.  What  a  strangely  circuitous  method  of  preserving 
the  forest  and  of  securing  it  for  the  public  use  and  enjoyment  1  Yet 
many  persons  who  would  have  considered  any  direct  intervention  of 
the  Legislatiu*e  to  prevent  these  glaring  illegalities,  as  an  interference 
with  the  rights  of  property,  regarded  with  pleasure  the  tortuous  and 
protracted  legal  proceedings  by  which  the  Corporation  vindicated  their 
shadovi^y  rights,  and  thus  indirectly  effected  the  object  of  preserving 
the  forest  for  the  public. 

The  process  reminds  one  how  completely  such  righta»  whether  of 
the  lords  or  commoners,  have  altered  in  character  and  value.  In 
olden  times  these  manorial  wastes  were  of  value  only  for  the  rough 
pasture  afforded  to  the  cattle  of  the  community,  or  for  the  peat  or 
turves  which  sen-ed  as  fuel.  They  had  little  or  no  intrinsic  value 
as  land.  The  forest  was  of  value  only  for  the  spoit  it  afforded  to  the 
sovereign,  or  for  its  subsitliary  rights  of  common.  As  population  has 
grown  up  around  them,  the  rights  of  turning  out  cattle  have  prac- 
tically ceased  to  have  any  value,  the  risk  to  cattle  is  greater  than  the 
return,  sportmg  rights  are  equally  reduced  to  zero,  the  cutting  of  turf 
is  superseded  by  cheap  coal,  and  has  become  a  nuisance.     People  and 





childreB  have  taken  the  place  of  cattle  and  pigs,  and  recreate  and  enjoy 
themselves  on  the  heath  or  in  the  forest.  If  trespassers  in  theory,  they 
are  dispunishahle  in  fact.  The  law,  if  it  usually  fails  to  recognize  such 
use,  however  long  enjoyed,  fails  equally  to  provide  any  remedy  against 
snch  trefipassers.  No  one  can  prevent  or  interfere  with  them.  The 
open  space  becomes  an  essential  condition  of  health  and  existence 
to  the  surrounding  population.  On  the  other  hand,  this  urban  growth 
alters  entirely  the  intriusic  value  of  the  manorial  waste.  Instead  of 
being  the  mere  refuse  of  the  manor, im worthy  of  cultivation,  it  attains, 
without  any  expenditure  of  capital  on  it,  an  enormous  value  for 
building  purposes,  if  only  it  can  be  freed  from  common  rightiii,  and 
appropriated.  Hence  the  great  temptation  to  enclose,  and  the  eager 
hunger  to  swallow  up  these  remaining  wildernesses*  But  is  it  right 
or  just  to  the  surrounding  population  that  this  should  be  permitted, 
without  consideration  of  the  interests  or  the  actual  user  of  those 
through  whose  existence  only  the  land  has  acquired  this  great  value? 
or  is  it  right  that  the  population  should  be  called  upon  to  pay  this 
immense  value  for  land  which  they  have  always  in  fact  enjoyedt 

It  has  always  appeared  to  me  that  the  law,  or,  if  not  the  law,  the 
Legifilature,  should  recognize  and  sanction  the  practical  transfer  of  use 
from  cattle  to  people,  and  should  admit  the  right  of  the  population 
to  use  and  enjoy  that  wliich  they  have  in  fact  always  used  and 
enjoyed*  The  rights  of  tm-ning  out  cattle  on  the  commons  had  their 
origin  in  custom,  and,  together  with  the  copyholder's  possessory  right 
to  his  land,  which  in  early  times  was  merely  peniiiseive,  were  con* 
Terted  into  legal  rights  by  the  courts  of  law,  recognizing  the  effect  of 
time  upon  custom.  Why  should  the  law  be  less  pliant  now  than  in 
bygone  times  ?  Why  should  it  not  recognize  the  changes  which  time 
effects,  and  give  sanction  to  long-continued  customs  t  Surely  rights 
can  have  no  better  origin  than  immemorial  use  t  The  case  is  much 
strengthened  when  it  has  been  proved  by  so  long  a  course  of  litiga- 
tion that,  practically,  enclosm-e  means  the  invasion  of  otter  persons' 
rights,  and  that  the  sleepiog  rights  of  common  can  be  revived  to 
prevent  such  enclosure.  Why  subject  people  to  the  great  expense 
and  trouble  of  putting  in  force  these  dormant  rights,  for  a  puipose 
altogether  foreign  to  their  origin  1  Why  longer  permit  enclopfures  in 
the  face  of  such  strong  presumption  that  they  are  illegal  %  Why  not 
directly  prohibit  them,  rather  than  compel  resort  to  such  circtdtous 
methods  of  resisting  them? 

Upon  these  premises,  and  usiog  such  arguments,  I  ventured  to 
make  several  alternative  proposals,  when  the  Commons  Act  of  1876 
was  before  the  House  of  Commons,  with  the  object  of  preventing  in 
the  future  these  land  peculations,  and  of  securing  to  the  public  the 
continued  enjoyment  of  that  which  it  had  always  hitherto  enjoyed* 
There  was  no  ^y\^  to  interfere  with  any  practically  existing  right ; 
the  object  was  simply  to  maintain  the  siatm  quo;  it  was  urged  that  far 


more  danger  ariBea  to  the  rights  of  property  from  Buch  frequent  cases 
of  wrongful  appropriation,  than  from  any  theoretical  interference  with 
the  rights  of  lords  of  manors,  by  iiieisting  upon  the  maintenance  of 
commons  in  their  existing  state. 

The  Home  Secretaiy  reasted  all  these  proposals,  upon  the  usual 
clap-trap  argument  that  they  interfered  with  rights  of  property. 
It  was  obvious,  however,  that  he  would  be  glad  enough  to  secure  the 
object  in  view,  if  a  "formula  "  could  be  devised  which,  under  a  suffi- 
ciently plausible  pretence,  would  indirectly  eflFect  the  purpose.  The 
nearest  approach  to  such  a  *'  foixQula  "  was  a  clause  in  the  Commons 
Act  which  enables  local  authoritiesj  in  respect  of  commons  near  to'WTiB, 
to  buy  any  lands  or  premises,  ha\'iDg  rights  of  common  attached,  and 
to  hold  them  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  such  commons  open.  In 
other  words,  a  local  authority,  not  ha\dng  a  cemetery,  may  purchase 
land  giving  it  the  same  kind  of  power,  which  the  Coi-poration  of 
Loudon  possessed  by  virtue  of  its  now  famous  burying  ground.  The 
clause  may  be  useful  in  the  hands  of  an  active  corporation,  but  is 
not  likely  to  frighten  or  deter  the  unsleeping  spirit  of  enclosure.  A 
more  recent  private  Act,  obtained  by  the  Cori>oration  of  London  in  the 
past  session,  carries  this  idea  much  further.  It  empowei-s  the  Corpora- 
tion, m  respect  of  any  common  within  twenty-eight  miles  of  London, 
to  enter  into  agreement  with  any  persons  for  the  aseeiiiion  or  protection 
of  any  rights  affecting  the  common,  with  the  object  of  keeping  such 
place  open  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  pubhc ;  and  it  may  contribute  to 
this  object  out  of  the  proceeds  of  the  dues  levied  from  the  metage  of 
grain.  Here  then  is  a  formula  almost  equal  to  the  object  in  view* 
Money  raised  by  taxation  from  the  people  of  London  may,  in  defiance 
of  all  the  old  laws  against  champerty  and  maintenance,  be  used  to 
promote  and  sustain  litigation  against  the  lord  of  any  common  within  a 
very  wide  circle  round  the  metropolis,  who  may  venture  to  enclose  such 
comnion.  What  lord  of  a  manor  will  be  bold  enough  in  future  to 
attempt  enclosure  in  the  face  of  such  a  provision^  backed  by  the  long 
purse  of  the  Corporation  of  London?  Snch  a  provision  extended  to 
other  corpomtions,  and  to  County  Boards,  would  indirectly  effect 
throughout  the  country  what  is  directly  refused. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  Corporation  of  London,  armed  with  thi^ 
clause,  will  settle  schemes  for  the  management  and  regulation  of  all 
the  principal  Commons  within  the  prescribed  area;  a  task  of  consider- 
able magnitude,  but  not  beyond  the  power  or  unworthy  of  such  a 
CorporatioUj  and  one  which,  if  pursued,  will  greatly  strengthen  it  in 
the  estimation  of  the  pubHc*  It  is  not  the  le^  matter  for  surprise, 
that  the  Legislature  which  will  go  thus  far,  and  by  a  device  so 
transparent,  indirectly  effect  an  object  which  all  desire,  should  hesitate 
to  act  more  directly,  and  declare  that  aU  enclosures  of  commons  or 
reputed  commons  shall  in  the  future  be  illegal,  unless  previously 
sanctioned  by  Parliament.    There  is  not  another  legislature  in  Europe 



vbidi  would  hesitate  to  paas  snch  a  measure.  Bat  in  EDgland  changeB 
which  touch  in  the  most  remote  degree  upon  property  are  effected 
oidy  by  circuitous  methods,  and  bj  erubterfuges  such  as  I  have  described. 
The  fight  for  Eppiug  Forest  and  the  other  London  Commons  has  ex- 
tended over  nearly  twenty  years.  Success  has  resulted  not  only  iu  saving 
those  attacked,  but  in  contributing  to  the  safety  of  other  commons 
througfa  the  device  I  have  explained.  But  it  may  be  many  years 
before  the  effect  of  it  is  appreciated,  and  before  even  earnest  and  weD- 
meaning  statesmen  are  able  to  dispense  with  formulas,  with  which  they 
may  deceive  themselves  and  their  clients,  but  which  will  not  be  mis- 
interpreted  in  the  future  by  jurists  or  historians. 

G.  Shaw  Lefevbb. 


HERODOTUS  begins  Mb  history  by  relating  how  Phoenician  traders 
brought  *' Egyptian  and  Assyrian  wares*'  to  Argos  and  other 
parts  of  Greece,  in  those  remote  days  when  the  Greeks  were  still 
waiting  to  receive  the  elements  of  their  culture  from  the  more  ci\nlized 
East.  His  account  was  derived  from  Persian  and  Phoenician  sources, 
but,  it  would  seem,  w^as  accepted  by  his  contemporaries  with  the  same 
nnquestioning  confidence  as  by  himself.  The  behef  of  Herodotus 
was  shared  by  the  scholars  of  Europe  after  the  revival  of  learning,  and 
there  were  none  among  them  who  doubted  that  the  civilization  of 
ancient  Greece  had  been  brought  from  Asia  or  Egj^pt,  or  from  both. 
Hebrew  was  regarded  as  the  primaeval  language,  and  the  Hebrew 
records  as  the  fountain-head  of  all  history ;  just  as  the  Greek  vocabu- 
lary, tliereforCj  was  traced  back  to  the  Hebrew  lexicon,  the  legends  of 
primitive  Greece  were  believed  to  be  the  echoes  of  Old  Testament 
history.  Ex  Orients  Imv  was  the  motto  of  the  inquirer,  and  the  key  to 
all  that  was  dark  or  doubtful  in  the  mythology  and  history  of  Hellas 
was  to  be  found  in  the  monuments  of  the  Oriental  world. 

But  the  age  of  Creuzer  and  Rrj-ant  w^as  succeeded  by  an  age  of 
scepticism  and  critical  investigation,  A  reaction  set  in  against  the 
attempt  to  force  Greek  thought  and  culture  into  an  Asiatic  mould* 
The  Greek  scholar  was  repelled  by  the  tasteless  insipidity  and  barbaric 
exuberance  of  the  East;  ho  contrasted  the  works  of  Phidias  and 
Praxiteles,  of  Sopliocles  and  Plato,  with  the  monstrous  creations  of 
India  or  Egypt,  and  the  con\nction  gi'ew  strong  within  him  that  the 
Greek  could  never  have  learnt  his  fii'st  lessons  of  civilization  in  such  a 
school  as  this.  Between  the  East  and  the  West  a  sharp  line  of  division 
was  drawn,  and  to  look  for  the  origin  of  Greek  culture  beyond  the  bound- 
aries of  Greece  itself  came  to  be  regarded  almost  as  sacrilege.  Greek 
mythology,  so  far  from  being  an  echo  or  caricature  of  Biblical  history 




and  Oriental  mysticifim,  was  pronounced  to  be  eelf-evolved  and  inde- 
p^dent,  and  K,  0.  Miiller  could  deny  without  contradiction  the  Asiatic 
origin  even  of  the  myth  of  Aphrodite  and  Adonis,  where  the  name  of 
the  Semitic  smi'-god  seems  of  itself  to  indicate  ite  source.  The  Phcenician 
traders  of  Herodotus,  like  the  royal  maiden  they  carried  away  from 
Argos,  were  banished  to  the  nebulous  region  of  rationahstic  fable. 

Along  with  this  reaction   against  the  Orientalizing  school  which 

could  see  in  Greece  nothing  but  a  deformed  copy  of  Eastern  wisdom 

went   another  reaction  against  the  conception  of  Greek  mythology 

on  which  the  labom-s  of  the  Orlentahzing  school  had  been  based.     Key 

after  key  had  been  applied  to  Greek  mythology,  and  all  in  vain ;  the 

iock  had  refused  to  turn.     The  light  w^hich  had  been  supposed  to 

Come  from  the  East  had  turned  out  to  be  but  a   \\nll'0*-the-wi8p ; 

neither  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  nor  the  Eg}'ptiaii  hieroglypliics  had 

solved  the  problem  presented  by  the  Greek  myths.     And  the  Greek 

lolar,  in  despair,  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  problem  was 

>luble ;  all  that  he  could  do  was  to  accept  the  fact-s  as  they  were 

Bt  before  him,  to  classify  and  repeat  the  %vondrou8  tales  of  the  Greek 

>et8,  but  to  leave  their  origin  unexplained.     This  is  practically  the 

position  of  Grote ;  he  is  content  to  show  that  all  the  parts  of  a  myth  hang 

loeely  together,  and  that  any  attempt  to  extmct  history  or  philosophy 

rom  it  must  be  arbitmry  and  futile.     To  deprive  a  myth  of  its  kernel 

id  soul,  and  call  the  dry  husk  that  is  left  a  historical  fact,  is  to  mistake 

the  conditions  of  the  problem  and  the  nature  of  mythology. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  science  of  comparative  mythology 

tepped  in*     Grote  had  shown  that  we  cannot  look  for  histoiy  in 

ayihology,  but  he  had  given  up  the  discovery  of  the  origin  of  this 

aythology   as  a  hopeless  task.      The   same  comparative    method, 

tiowever,  which  has  forced  nature  to   disclose  her  secrets  has  also 

Ipenetrated  to  the  sources  of  mythologj^  itself.     The  Greek  myths, 

fEke  the  myths  of  the  other  nations  of  the  world,  are  the  forgotten 

land  misinterpreted  records  of  the  beliefs  of  primitive  man,  and  of  liis 

[earliest  attempts  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  nature.    Restore  the 

original  meaning  of  the  language  wherein  the  myth  is  clothed,  and 

le  origin  of  the  myth  is  found.    Myths,  in  fact,  are  the  words  of  a  dead 

inguage  to  which  a  wrong  sense  has  been  given  by  a  false  method  of 

lecipherment.    A  myth,  rightly  explained,  will  tell  us  the  behefs,  the 

feelings,  and  the  knowledge  of  those  among  whom  it  first  grew  up  j 

for  the  evidences  and  momimenta  of  history  we  mu^t  look  elsewhere. 

But  there  is  an  old  proverb  that  "  there  is  no  smoke  without  fire." 

The  w^ar  of  Troy  or  the  beleaguennent  of  Thebes  may  be  but  a 

epedtiun  of  the  time-worn  story  of  the  battle  waged  by  the  bright 

)weiB  of  day  round  the  battlements  of  heaven ;  but  there  must  have 

Ben  some  reason  why  this  story  should  have  been  speciaUy  locahzed 

tlie  Troad  and  at  Thebes.      Most  of  the  Greek  myths  have  a 

"background  in  space  and  time ;  and  for  this  background  there  must 


be  some  historical  cause.  The  cause,  however,  if  it  is  to  be  discovered 
at  all,  mufit  be  discovered  by  means  of  those  evidences  which  will 
alone  satisfy  the  critical  historian.  The  locahzation  of  a  myth  is 
merely  an  indication  or  sign-post  pointing  out  the  direction  in  which 
he  is  to  look  for  Mb  factfj.  If  Greek  warriom  had  never  fought  in  the 
plains  of  Troy,  we  maybe  pretty  sure  that  the  poems  of  Homer  would 
not  have  brought  Akhilles  and  Agamemnon  under  the  walls  of  Ihum, 
If  Phoenician  traders  had  exercised  no  influence  on  primfcval  Greece, 
Greek  legend  would  have  contained  no  references  to  them. 

But  even  the  myth  itself^  when  rightly  questioned,  may  be  made  to 
yield  some  of  the  fact«  upon  which  the  concluBions  of  the  liistorian 
are  based.  We  now  know  fairly  well  what  ideas,  usages,  and  proper 
names  have  an  Aryan  stamp  upon  them,  and  what,  on  the  other  hand^ 
belong  rather  to  the  Semitic  world.  Now  there  is  a  certain  portion  of 
Greek  mythology  which  bears  but  httle  relationship  to  the  mythology 
of  the  kindred  Aryan  tribes,  while  it  connects  itself  very  closely  with 
the  beliefs  and  practices  of  the  Semitic  race.  Human  sacrifice  is  very 
possibly  one  of  these,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  two  at  leajst  of  the  legends 
which  speak  of  human  sacrifice — those  of  Athamas  and  Busiris— are 
associated,  the  one  %vitli  the  Phoenicians  of  Thebes,  the  other  vn\h.  the 
Phoenicians  of  the  Egyptian  Delta.  The  whole  cycle  of  myths  grouped 
about  the  name  of  Herakles  points  as  clearly  to  a  Semitic  source  as  does 
the  myth  of  Aphrodite  and  Adonis;  and  the  extravagant  lamentations 
that  accompanied  the  worship  of  the  Akhfean  Demeter  (Herod,  v.  61) 
come  as  certainly  from  the  East  as  the  oHvCj  the  pomegranate,  and  the 
myrtle,  the  sacred  symbols  of  Athena,  of  Hera,  and  of  Aphrodite,* 

Comparative  mythology  has  thus  given  us  a  juster  appreciation  of 
the  historical  inferences  we  may  draw  from  the  legends  of  prehistoric 
Greece,  and  has  led  us  back  to  a  recognition  of  the  important  part 
played  by  the  Phoenicians  in  the  heroic  age,  Greek  culture,  it  is  true, 
was  not  the  mere  copy  of  that  of  Semitic  Asia,  as  scholars  once  be- 
lieved, but  the  germs  of  it  had  come  in  large  measure  from  an  Oriental 
aeed'plot.  The  conclusions  derived  from  a  scientific  study  of  the 
myths  have  been  confirmed  and  widened  by  the  recent  researches  and 
discoveries  of  arehaaology.  The  spade,  it  has  been  said,  is  the  modern 
instrument  for  reconstnicting  the  histoiy  of  the  past,  and  in  no  depart- 
ment of  history  has  the  spade  been  more  active  of  late  than  in  that  of 
Greece.  From  aU  sides  hght  has  come  upon  that  remote  epoch  around 
which  the  mists  of  a  fabulous  antiqiiity  had  already  been  folded  in 
the  days  of  Herodotus  i  from  the  islands  and  shores  of  ih^  /Egean, 
from  the  tombs  of  Asia  Minor  and  Palestine,  nay,  even  from  the 
temples  and  palaces  of  Egypt  and  Assyria,  have  the  materials  been 
exhumed  for  sketchuig  in  something  like  clear  outline  the  origin  and 
growth  of  Greek  civilization.     From  nowhere,  however,  have  more  im- 

*  S«e  E,  Cnrtiug :  Die  griechisclie  G5tterlehre  vom  gescliichtlicheti  Standptmktj  in 
Pf0\^$tvsche  JijkhihiUhir,  X3xd.  pp.  1—17.     1875. 


revelations  been  derived  than  from  the  excavations  at  Mykenae 

and  Spata,  near  Athens^  and  it  is  with  the  evidence  furnished  by  theee 

that  I  now  propose  mainly  to  deaL     A  personal  inspection  of  the  sites 

.mxA  the  objects  fonnd  upon  them  has  convinced  me  of  the  ground- 

4eeBne8s  of  the  doubts  which  have  been  thrown  out  against  their 

^^ntiquity,  as  well  as  of  the  intercourse  and  connection  to  which  they 

testify  with  the  great  empires  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria,     Mr,  Poole 

Iia0  lately  pointed  out  %vhat  materials  are  furnished  by  the  Egyptian 

monuments  for  determining  the  age  and  character  of  the  antiquities 

of  Mykenas.*     I  would  now  draw  attention  to  the  far  clearer  and 

laaore  tangible  materials  afforded  by  Assyrian  art  and  history. 

Two  facts  must  first  be  kept  well  in  view.  One  of  these  is  the 
i5emitic  origin  of  the  Greek  alphabet.  The  Phoenician  alphabet, 
originally  derived  from  the  alphabet  of  the  Egyptian  hierogh'phicR, 
and  imported  into  their  mother-countTy  by  the  Phoenician  settlers  of 
the  Delta,  was  brought  to  Greece,  not  probably  by  the  Phoenicians  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  but  by  the  Aramaeans  of  the  Gulf  of  Antioch,  whose 
nouns  ended  with  the  same  **  emphatic  aleph  **  that  we  seem  to  find  in 
the  Greek  names  of  the  lettei'S,  alpha,  beta,  gamma  (cfamfa).  Before  the 
introduction  of  the  simpler  Phoenician  alphabet,  the  inhabitants  of 
I  *Aaa  Minor  and  the  neighbouring  islands  appear  to  have  used  a 
syllabary  of  some  seventy  characters,  which  continued  to  be  employed 
in  conservative  Cypnis  down  to  a  very  late  date ;  but,  so  far  as  we 
know  at  present^  the  Greeks  of  the  mainland  were  unacquainted  with 
^writing  before  the  Aramaeo-Phoenicians  had  tanght  them  their  pho- 
netic symbols-  The  oldest  Greek  inscriptions  are  probably  those  of 
Thera,  now  Santorin,  where  the  Phoenicians  had  been  settled  from 
time  immemorial;  and  as  the  forms  of  the  characters  found  in  them  do 
not  differ  very  materially  from  the  forms  used  on  the  famous  Moabite 
StODe,  we  may  infer  that  the  alphabet  of  Kadmus  was  1>rought  to  the 
West  at  a  date  not  very  remote  from  that  of  ilesha  and  Aliab,  perhaps 
about  800  B.C.  W^e  may  notice  that  Thera  was  an  island  and  a 
Phoenician  colony,  and  it  certainly  seems  more  probable  that  the 
alphabet  was  carried  to  the  mainland  from  the  islands  of  the  i^^gean 
than  that  it  was  disseminated  from  the  inland  Phoenician  He! tlement  at 
Thebes,  as  the  old  legends  affirmed.  In  any  case,  the  introduction  of 
the  alphabet  implies  a  considerable  amoimt  of  civilizing  foi-ce  on  the 
part  of  those  from  whom  it  was  borrowed ;  the  teachei's  from  whom 
an  illiterate  people  learns  the  art  of  writing  are  generally  teachers  from 
whom  it  has  pre\noualy  learnt  the  other  elements  of  social  culture, 
A  barbarous  tribe  will  use  its  muscles  in  the  service  of  art  before  it 
will  use  its  brains ;  the  smith  and  engraver  precede  the  scribe.  If, 
therefore,  the  Greeks  were  unacquainted  with  writing  before  the  ninth 
century  B,c,,  objects  older  than  that  period  may  be  expected  to  exhibit 
clear  traces  of  Phoenician  influence,  though  no  traces  of  writing. 
*  CoimMFORiAT  Bktisw,  Jamiaty,  1378. 



The  other  foot  to  which  I  allude  is  the  exiBtence  of  pottery  of  the 
same  material  and  pattern  on  all  the  prehiBtoric  sites  of  the  Greek 
world,  however  %videly  separated  they  may  be.  We  find  it,  fo 
instance,  atMykenas  and  Tiryns,  at  Tanagra  and  Athens,  in  Rhodes, 
in  Cyprus,  and  in  Theraj  w^hile  I  picked  up  fipecimens  of  it  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Treasuiy  of  Jlinyas  and  on  the  site  of  the  Acropolis 
at  Orchomenus.  The  clay  of  which  it  is  composed  is  of  a  drab  colour 
derived,  perhaps  in  all  instances,  from  the  volcanic  soil  of  Thera  and 
Mek)8»  and  it  is  ornamented  with  geometrical  and  other  patterns  in 
black  and  maroon-red.  After  a  time  the  patterns  become  more  com- 
plicated and  artistic ;  flowers,  animal  forms,  and  eventually  human 
fignrcB,  take  the  place  of  simple  hnes,  and  the  pottery  gradually  passes 
into  that  known  as  Corinthian  or  Phoeniko-Grcek.  It  needs  but  little 
experience  to  distinguish  at  a  glance  this  early  pottery  from  the  red 
ware  of  the  later  Hellenic  period* 

Phoenicia,  Keft  as  it  was  called  by  the  Egyptians,  had  been  brought 
into  relation  with  the  monarchy  of  the  Nile  at  a  remote  date,  and 
among  the  Semitic  settlers  in  the  Delta  or  *'  Isle  of  Caphtor  '*  must 
have  been  natives  of  Sidon  and  the  neighbouring  towns.  After  the 
expulsion  of  the  Hyksos,  the  Pharaohs  of  the  eighteenth  and  nine- 
teenth dynasties  carried  their  arms  as  far  as  Mesopotamia  and  placed 
Egyptian  garrisons  in  Palestine,  A  tomb-painting  of  Thothmes  IIL 
represents  the  Kefa  or  Phoenicians,  clad  in  richly-embroidered  kilts 
and  buslrinSj  and  bringing  their  tribute  of  gold  and  silver  vases  and 
earthenware  cups,  some  in  the  shape  of  annuals  like  the  vases  found 
at  Mykenee  and  elsewhere.  Phoeniciaj  it  %vould  seem,  wtks  already 
celebrated  for  its  goldsmiths*  and  potters'  work,  and  the  ivory  the 
Kefa  are  sometimes  made  to  carry  shows  that  their  commerce  must 
have  extended  far  to  the  east.  As  early  as  the  sixteenth  century  BX., 
therefore,  we  may  conclude  that  the  Phoenicians  were  a  great  com- 
mercial people^  trading  between  Aeayria  and  Egypt  and  possessed  of 
a  considerable  amount  of  artistic  skill. 

It  is  not  likely  that  a  people  of  this  sort.,  who,  as  we  know  from 
other  sources,  carried  on  a  large  trade  in  slaves  and  purple,  would  have 
been  still  unacquainted  with,  the  seas  and  coasts  of  Greece  where  both 
slaves  and  the  njurex  or  purple-fish  were  most  easily  to  be  obtained. 
Though  the  Phoenician  alphabet  was  unknown  in  Greece  till  the  ninth 
century  B.C.,  we  have  every  reason  to  expect  to  find  traces  of 
Phoenician  commerce  and  Phoenician  influence  there  at  least  five 
centuries  before.  And  such  seems  to  be  the  case.  The  excavations 
can-ied  on  in  Thera  by  MM,  Fouque  and  Gorceix,*  in  Rhodes  by  Mr. 
Newton  and  Dr,  Saltzmann,  and  in  various  other  places  such  as 
Megara,  Athens^  and  Melosj  have  been  followed  by  the  explorations 
of  Dr.   SchHtmann  at  Hissarlik,  Tiryns,  and  Mykenee,  of  Genei-al  di 

•  See  Fouqu^'o  Mission  Scientifiqne  t  I'Ue  de  Saatorin  ( Archives  des  Misaions  2*  B^rie, 
iv.  1807);  Gorceix  in  the  Bunetin  de  TEoole  fran^e  d' Athene©,  u 



lola  in  Cyprus,  and  of  tlie  Arcli£eological  Society  of  Athens  at 
Tanagra  and  Spata. 

The  accnmDlations  of  prehistoric  objects  on  these  sites  all  tell  the 
same  tale,  the  influence  of  the  East,  and  more  especially  of  the  Phoe- 
liicians,  upon  the  growing  civilization  of  early  Greece.  Thus  in  Thera, 
where  a  sort  of  Greek  Pompeii  has  been  preserved  mider  the  lava 
iirhich  once  overwhelmed  it,  we  find  the  rude  stone  hovels  of  its  primi- 
tive inhabitants,  with  roofs  of  wild  olive,  filled  with  the  bones  of  dog^^ 
id  eheep,  and  containing  stores  of  barley,  spelt,  and  cliickpea,  copper 
id  stone  weapons,  and  abundance  of  pottery.  The  latter  is  for  the 
iost  part  extremely  coarse,  but  here  and  there  have  boon  discovered 
of  artistic  workmanship,  wliich  remind  us  of  those  carried  by 
le  Kefa,  and  may  have  been  imported  from  abroad.  Wo  know  from 
the  tombs  found  on  the  island  that  the  Phceuicians  afterwards  settled 
in  Thera  among  a  population  in  the  same  condition  of  civilization  as 
^that  which  had  been  overtaken  by  the  great  volcanic  eruption.  It  was 
rom  these  Phrenician  settlers  that  the  embroidered  dresses  known 
las  Theraean  were  brought  to  Greece  ;  they  were  adoraed  w^ith  animals 
land  other  figures,  similar  to  those  seen  upon  Corinthian  or  Phoeniko- 
FCreek  ware,* 

Now  M.  Fr.  Lenormant  has  pointed  out  that  much  of  the  pottery 

used  by  the  aboriginal  inliabitants  of  Thera  is  ahnost  identical  in  form 

'and  make  with  that  found  by  Dr.  ScUicmaun  at  Ilissarlik,  in  the  Troad, 

and  he  concludes  that  it  must  belong  to  the  same  period  and  the  same 

area  of  civihzation.     There  is  as  yet  little,  if  any,  trace  of  Oriental 

[influence ;  a  fe^v  of  the  clay  vases  from  Thera,  and  some  of  the  gold 

[workmanship  at  Hissarlik,  can  alone  be  refcn*ed,  with  more  or  less 

hesitation,  to  Pho?nician  artists.     We  have  not  yet  reached  the  age 

when  Phor-nician  trade  in  the  West  ceased  to  be  the  sporadic  effort  of 

Iprivate  individuals,  and  when  trading  colonies  were  established  in 

]  different  parts  of  tlie  Greek  world ;  Europe  is  still  unaffected  by  Eastern 

[culture,  and  the  beginnings  of  Greek  art  are  etili  free  from  foreign 

[interference.     It  is  only  in  certain  designs  on  the  terra-cotta  discs, 

[believed  by  Dr,  Schliemann  to  be  spin  die- whorls,  that  we  may  possibly 

detect  rude  copies  of  Babylonian  and  Phoenician  intaglios^ 

Among  all  the  objects  discovered  at  Hissarlik,  none  have  been  more 
diaoiissed  than  the  vases  and  clay  images  in  which  Dr.  Schliemann  saw 
a  repreeentation  of  an  owl-headed  Athena.  What  Dr.  SchUemann 
took  for  an  owl's  head,  however,  is  really  a  rude  attempt  to  imitato  the 
human  face,  and  two  breasts  are  frequently  moulded  in  the  clay  below 
it.  In  many  examples  the  human  countenance  is  unmiBtakable,  and 
in  most  of  the  othem  the  representation  is  less  rude  than  in  the  case  of 
the  8maU  marble  statues  of  Apollo  (?)  found  in  the  Greek  islands,  or 
even  of  the  early  Hellenic  vases  where  the  men  seem  fm-nished  with 
Iho  beaks  of  birds*     But  we  now  know  that  these  curious  vases  are 

•  HeeychiiM,  f.  t.  e^poiov,  ©ijfoii8»rf ;  PoUtur,  Onom*  vii.  iS,  77. 

See  U.  U.  289. 


not  peculiar  to  tlie  Troad.     Speciraene  of  tliem  have  also  been  meti 
-^'itli  in  CjpruB,  and  io  these  we  can  trace  the  development  of  the  owl-< 
like  head  into  the  more  perfect  portraiture  of  the  human  face.*     In^ 
consei-vative  Cjprus  there  was  not  that  break  with  the  past  whicb^ 
occuixed  in  other  portions  of  the  Greek  world. 

Cyprus,  in  fact,  hiy  midway  between  Greece  and  Phoenicia,  and  wa 
shared  to  tlie  hiBt  between  an  Ar3^an  and  a  Semitic  population.     The 
Phoenician  element  in  the  island  was  strong,  if  not  preponderant  ;^ 
Paphos  was  a  chief  seat  of  the  worship  of  tlie  Phoenician  Astartre,  and 
the  Phoenician  Kitium,  the  Chittim  of  the  Hebrews,  took  first  rank.f 
among  the  Cyprian  towns.       The  antiqnities  brought  to  hght  by^ 
General   di  Cesnola  are  of   all  ages  and  all  styles — prehistoric  and 
classical,  Phconician  and  Hellenic,  Assyrian  and  Egyptian^and  the- 
various  styles  are  combined  together  in  the  catholic  spirit  tliat  charac-^ 
terized  Phoenician  art, 

Bnt  we  must  pan  so  here  for  a  moment  to  define  more  accm^ately  i 
what  we  mean  by  Phoenician  art.  Strictly  speaking,  Phoenicia  had  nc 
art  of  its  own ;  its  designs  were  borrowed  from  Egypt  and  Assyria 
and  its  artists  went  to  school  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  and  the^ 
Euphrates.  The  Plioenician  combined  and  iro proved  upon  hie  models; 
the  impulse,  the  origination  came  from  abroad ;  the  modification  and 
elaboration  were  his  own.  He  entered  into  other  men's  labours,  and 
made  the  most  of  his  heritage.  The  sphinx  of  Egj-pt  became  Asiatic, ' 
and  in  its  new  form  was  tranpplanted  to  Nineveh  on  the  one  side  and 
to  Greece  on  the  other.  The  rosettes  and  other  patterns  of  the 
Babylonian  cylinders  were  introduced  into  the  handiwork  of  Phoonicia, 
and  so  passed  on  to  the  West,  while  the  hero  of  the  ancient  Chaldean 
epic  became  first  the  Tyrian  Melkarth,  and  then  the  llerakles  of 
Hellas.  It  is  poBsible,  no  doubt,  that  with  all  this  borrowing  there 
was  still  6omothing  that  was  original  in  Phoenician  work ;  such  at  any 
rate  seems  to  be  the  case  w^th  some  of  the  fonns  given  to  the  vases; 
but  at  present  we  have  no  means  of  determioiug  how  far  this  origin- 
ality n)ay  have  extended.  In  Assyi-ia,  indeed,  Phoenician  art  exercised 
a  great  influence  in  the  eighth  and  seventh  centuries  B.C, ;  but  it  had 
itself  previously  drawn  its  first  inspiration  from  the  empire  of  the 
Tigris,  and  did  bnt  give  back  the  perfect  blossom  to  those  from  whom 
it  had  received  the  seed.  The  workmanship  of  the  ivories  and  bronze 
bowls  found  at  Nineveh  by  Mr.  Layard  is  thoroughly  Phcenician ;  but 
it  cannot  be  separated  from  that  of  the  purely  Assyrian  pavements 
and  bas-reliefs  with  which  the  palaces  were  adorned.  The  Phoenician 
art,  in  fact,  traces  of  which  we  find  from  Assyria  to  Italy,  though 
based  on  both  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  models,  owed  far  more  to 
Assyria  than  it  did  to  Egypt,  In  art,  as  in  mythology  and  religion, 
Phoenicia  was  but  a  carrier  and  intermediary  between  East  and  West; 
and  juat  as  the  Greek  legends  of  Aphrodite  and  Adonis,  of  Herakles 
*  See,  for  eiamplej  Di  Ceinola's  CypnuB,  pp.  401,  402. 



and  his  twelve  labonrs,  and  of  the  other  borrowed  heroes  of  Onatital 
etoi-T  came  in  the  first  instance  from  Asf^yria,  so  too  did  that  art  and 
culture  which  Kadmns  the  Phoeuician  handed  on  to  the  Greek  race,     i 

But  Assyria  itself  had  been  equally  an  adapter  and  intennediary.i 
The  Semites  of  Assyria  and  Babylonia  liad  bon*owcd  their  culture 
and  civilization  from  the  older  Accadian  race,  with  its  agglutinative 
language,  which  had  preceded  thera  in  the  possession  of  Chaldea.  So 
Blavishly  observant  were  the  Assyrians  of  their  Chaldean  models  that 
in  a  land  where  Hmestone  was  plentiful  they  continued  to  build  their 
palaces  and  temples  of  bricfc,  and  to  ornament  them  with  those 
columns  and  pictorial  representations  which  had  been  first  devised  on 
the  alluvial  plains  of  Babylonia.  To  understand  Assyrian  art,  and 
track  it  back  to  Ob  source,  we  must  go  to  the  engraved  gems  and 
ruined  temples  of  prim<Teval  Babylonia.  It  is  true  that  Egypt  may 
have  had  some  influence  on  Assyrian  art  at  the  time  when  the  eigh^ 
teenth  dynasty  had  pushed  its  conquests  to  the  banks  of  the  Tigris; 
but  that  influence  does  not  seem  to  have  been  either  deep  or  per- 
manent. Now  the  art  of  Ass3Tia  is  in  great  measure  the  art  of  Phoe- 
nicia, and  that  again  the  art  of  prehistoric  Greece.  Modem  research 
lias  discovered  the  prototype  of  Ilerakles  in  the  hero  of  a  Chaldean  epic 
composed,  it  may  be,  four  thousand  years  ago  ;  it  has  also  discovered 
the  beginnings  of  Greek  columnar  architecture  and  the  germs  of  Greek 
art  in  the  works  of  the  buildere  and  engravers  of  early  Cbaldea. 

"\Mien  first  I  saw,  five  years  ago,  the  famous  sculpture  which  has 
guarded  the  Gate  of  Lions  at  Myken®  for  so  many  centuries,  I  was 
at  once  struck  by  its  Assyrian  character.  The  lions  in  form  and  atti- 
tude belong  to  Assj'Tia,  and  the  pillar  against  which  they  rest  may  be 
seen  in  the  bas-reliefs  brought  fi-om  Nineveh.  Here,  at  all  events, 
there  was  clear  proof  of  Assyrian  influence  ;  the  only  question  was 
whether  that  influence  had  been  earned  through  the  hands  of  the 
Phoenicians  or  had  travelled  along  the  highroad  which  ran  across  Asia 
Minor,  the  second  channel  whereby  the  culture  of  Assyria  could  ha%'e 
been  brought  to  Greece.  The  existence  of  a  similar  sculpture  over  a 
rock-tomb  at  Kumbet  in  Phrygia  might  seem  to  favour  the  latter  view. 

The  discoveries  of  Dr»  SchUemann  have  gone  far  to  settle  the  ques- 
tion. The  potteiy  excavated  at  Mykenae  is  of  the  Phcenician  type, 
and  the  clay  of  which  it  is  composed  has  probably  come  from  Thera, 
The  terra-cotta  figures  of  animals  and  more  especially  of  a  goddess 
with  long  robe,  crowned  head,  and  crescent-like  arms,  which  Dr. 
Schliemann  would  identify  with  (^oQtTn^  "^^pv^  «ire  spread  over  the  whole 
area  traversed  by  the  Phoenicians.  Tlie  image  of  the  goddess  in  one 
form  or  another  has  been  found  in  Thera  and  Melos,  in  Naxos  and 
Parog.  in  Ios>  in  Sikinos,  and  in  Anaphos,  and  JL  Lenonnant  has 
traced  it  back  to  Babylonia  and  to  the  Babylonian  representation  of 
the  goddess  Artemis-Nana.*     At  Tanagra  the  image  has  been  found 

F   2 



under  two  forme,  both,  however,  made  of  the  same  clay  and  in  the  same 
style  as  the  figures  from  Mykente,  In  one  the  godJesa  is  upright,  as 
at  llyken^e,  with  the  jyolos  on  her  head,  and  the  arms  cither  outspread  or 
folded  over  the  breast ;  in  the  other  she  is  sitting  with  the  anns  crossed. 
,  Now  among  the  gold  ornaments  exhumed  at  Mykenje  are  some  square 
'  pendants  of  gold  which  represent  the  goddess  in  this  sitting  posture,* 
The  animal  forms  most  commonly  met  with  are  those  of  the  lion, 
the  stag,  the  bull,  the  cuttle-fish,  and  the  murex.  The  last  two  point 
unmistakably  to  a  seafaring  race,  and  more  especially  to  those 
Phoenician  sailors  whose  pursuit  of  the  purple-trade  first  brought 
them  into  Greek  seas.  So  far  as  I  know,  neither  the  polypus  nor  the 
murex,  nor  the  butterfly  which  often  accompanies  them,  have  been 
found  in  Assyria  or  Egypt,  and  we  may  therefore  see  in  them  original 
designs  of  Phoenician  art,  Mr,  Newton  has  pointed  out  that  the 
'  outtle-fisli  (like  the  dolphin)  also  occurs  among  the  prehistoric  remains 
from  lalysos  in  Rhodes,  where,  too,  pottery  of  the  same  shape  and 
material  as  that  of  Mykena^  has  been  found,  as  well  as  beads  of  a 
curious  vitreous  substance,  and  rings  in  which  the  back  of  the  chaton 
is  rounded  so  as  to  fit  the  finger.  It  is  clear  that  the  art  of  lalysos 
belongs  to  the  same  age  and  school  as  the  art  of  Mykenas ;  and  as  a 
ecarab  of  Amenophis  IIL  has  been  found  in  one  of  the  lalysian  tombs, 
it  is  possible  that  the  art  may  be  as  old  as  the  fifteenth  century  B.C, 

Now  lalysos  is  not  the  only  Rhodian  town  which  has  yielded  pre- 
historic antiquities.  Caniinie  also  has  been  explored  by  Messrs.  Biliotti 
and  Saltzmann ;  and  while  objects  of  the  same  kmd  and  character  as  those 
of  lalysos  have  been  discovered  there,  other  objects  have  been  found 
by  their  side  which  belong  to  another  and  more  advanced  stage  of  art. 
These  are  vases  of  clay  and  metal^  bronze  bowb,  and  the  like,  wliieh 
not  only  display  high  finish  and  skill  but  are  ornamented  with  the 
clesigTis  characteristic  u?  Pkconician  workmanship  at  Nine\'eb  and  else- 
where. Thus  we  have  zones  of  trees  and  animals,  attempts  at  the 
representation  of  scenery,  and  a  profueion  of  oniament»  while  the 
influence  of  Egypt  is  traceable  in  the  sphinxes  and  scarabs,  which  also 
occur  plentifully.  Here,  therefore,  at  Caminis,  there  is  plain  evidence 
of  a  sudden  introduction  of  finished  Phoenician  art  among  a  people 
whose  art  was  still  rude  and  backward,  although  spiingirig  from  the 
same  genua  as  the  art  of  Phcenicia  itself.  Two  distinct  periods  in 
the  hi.story  of  the  yEgean  thus  seem  to  lie  unfolded  before  us;  one 
in  which  Eastern  influence  was  moi'o  or  less  indirect,  content  to  com- 
municate the  seeds  of  civilization  and  culture,  and  to  import  such 
objects  as  a  barbarous  race  would  piizo ;  and  another  m  which  the 
East  was,  as  it  were,  transpoi-ted  into  the  West,  and  the  development 
of  Greek  art  was  interrupted  by  the  introduction  of  foreign  workmen 
and  foreign  beliefs.  This  second  period  was  the  period  of  Phoenician 
colonization  as  distinct  fromthat  of  mere  trading  voyages^ — the  period, 
•  £ee  Scliiiemmji'a  Mycenae  uxkd  Tiryna,  p).  273- 



ill  fact,  when  Thebes  was  made  a  Phoenician  fortresR,  and  the  Phoe-j 
mciau  alphabet  diffused  throughout  the  Greek  world.  It  is  oiilj  in 
relics  of  the  later  part  of  this  period  that  we  can  look  for  inscriptions 
and  traces  of  writing,  at  least  in  Greece  proper ;  in  the  islands  and  on 
the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor,  the  Cypriote  syllabaiy  seems  to  have  been  in 
use,  to  be  supei^seded  afterwards  by  the  simpler  alphabet  of  Kadmus. 
For  reasons  presently  to  be  stated,  I  would  distinguish  the  first  period 
by  the  najne  of  Phrygian. 

Througbont  the  whole  of  it,  however,  the  Phoenician  trading  ships 
must  have  formed  the  chief  medium  of  intercourse  between  Asia  and 
Europe.      Proof   of  this  has  been  furnished  by  the  rock  tombs  of 
Spata,  which  have  been  hghted  on  opportunely  to  illustrate  and  ex- 
plain the  discoveries  at  Mykenae.     Spata  is  about  nine  miles  from 
Athens,  on  the  north-west  spur  of  Hymettos,  and  the  two  tombs 
hitherto  opened  are  cut  in  the  soft  sandstone  rock  of  a  eraall  conical] 
bill.     Both  are  approached  by  king  tunnel-like  entrances,  and  one  of  j 
them  contains  three  chambers,  leading  one  into  the  other,  and  each 
fashioned  after  the  model  of  a  house.     No  one  who  has  seen  the  objects 
unearthed  at  Spata  can  doubt  for  a  moment  then*  close  connection 
with  the  Mykena&an  antiquities.     The  very  moulds  found  at  Slykenm  fit 
the  ornaments  from  Spata,  and  might  easily  have  been  used  in  the 
manufacture  of  them.     It  is  more  especially  with  the  contents  of  the 
msX\x  tomb  discovered  by  Mr.  Stamataki  in  the  aiceinie  at  Mykena^  after 
Dr.  Schliemann*s  departure^  that  the  Spata  remains  agi^ee  so  remark- 
ably.    But  there  is  a  strong   resemblance  between  them  and  thej 
Mykenaean  antiquities  generally,  in  both  materiah  patterns,  and  chfl 
racter.      The   cuttle-fish  and  the  murex  appear  in  both;   the  same 
curious  spiral  designs,  and  ornaments  in  the  shape  of  shells  or  rudely- 
formed  oxheads ;  the  same  geometrical  patterns;  the  same  class  of 
carved  work.     An  ivory  in  which  a  lion,  of  the  Assyrian  type,  is  de- 
picted as  devouring  a  stag,  is  but  a  reproduction  of  a  similar  design 
met  with  among  the  ohJL^cts  from  Myken£e»  and  it  is  interesting  to 
observe  that  the  same  device,  in  the  same  style   of  art,  may  be  also 
seen  on  a  PhoQuieiau  gem  from  Sardinia.*     Of  still  higher  interest  are  | 
other  ivories,  which,  like  the  antiquities  of  Camirus,  belong  rather  taj 
the  second  than  to  the  firet  period  of  Phoenician  influence.     One  ofl 
these  represents  a  column,  which,  Hko  that  above  the  Gate  of  Lions, 
carries  us  back  to  the  architecture  of  Babylonia,  while  others  exhibit 
the  Egj^tian   sphinx,  as  modified  by  Phoenician  artists.     Thus  the 
handle  of  a  comb  is  divided  into  two  compartments — the  lower  oecu* 
pied  by  three  of  these  sphinxes,  the  upper  by  two  others,  wliich  have 
their  eyes  fixed  on  an  Assyrian  rosette  in  the  middle,!     Similar  sphinxes  ' 
are  engraved  on  a  silver  cup  lately  discovered  at  Palestrina,  bearing 
the  Phoenician  inscription,  in  Phoe^iician  letters,  "  Eshmim-ya  ar,  son 

*  Given  Ly  La  Marmora  in  the  Mi:*moric  della  Beale  AcAdeniia  delle  Scienze  di  Torina 
(1954),  vol.  xiv.  pi-  2,  fig.  03*  f  See  the  *At?-ra:,iK,  1S77,  pL  1* 



of  AelitaV*  Another  ivory  lias  been  carved  into  the  form  of  a  human 
eide  face,  eunnounted  by  a  tiara  of  four  plaits.  On  the  one  hand  the 
aiTangement  of  the  hah:  of  the  face,  the  whisker  and  beard  forraing  a 
fringe  roiuifl  it,  and  the  two  lips  being  closely  ehorn,  reminds  us  ofj 
what  we  find  at  Paiestrioa;  on  tho  other  hand,  the  head-drees  is  that 
of  the  figures  on  the  sculptured  roclcs  of  Asia  Minor,  and  of  the  Hittite 
princes  of  CarcheraiBh.  In  spite  of  tins  Plioeiiician  colouring,  however, 
the  treasures  of  Spata  belong  to  the  earlier  part  of  the  Phoeniciari 
period,  if  not  to  that  which  I  have  called  Phiygiau :  there  is  as  yet  no 
eign  of  writing,  no  trace  of  the  use  of  iron.  But  we  seem  to  be  ap- 
proachhig  the  close  of  the  bronze  age  in  Greece — ^to  have  reached  the 
time  %vhen  the  lions  were  sculptured  over  the  chief  gateway  of  Mykense, 
and  the  so-called  treasuries  were  erected  in  honour  of  the  dead. 

Can  any  date  be  assigned,  even  approximately,  to  those  two  periods 
of  Phoemcan  influence  in  Greece?  Can  w©  localize  the  era,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  antiquities  discovered  at  Jlykenfc,  or  fix  the  epoch  at 
which  its  kings  ceased  to  build  its  loiig-enduring  monuments,  and  its 
glory  was  taken  from  it  ?  I  think  an  answer  to  these  questions  may 
be  found  in  a  series  of  engraved  gold  rings  and  prisms  found  upon  its 
site — the  prisms  having  probnbly  once  served  to  ornament  the  neck- 
In  these  we  can  trace  a  gradual  development  of  art,  which  in  timo 
becomes  less  Oriental  and  more  Greek,  and  acc^uires  a  certain  facility 
in  the  representatiun  of  the  human  form. 

Let  us  first  fix  our  attention  on  an  engraved  gold  chaton  found,  not 
in  the  tombs^  but  outside  the  encehif^  among  the  ruins,  as  it  would 
seem,  of  a  house.!  On  this  we  have  a  rude  representation  of  a  figure 
seated  under  a  palm-tree,  with  another  figure  behind  and  three 
more  in  front,  the  foreraoBt  being  of  small  size,  tlie  remaining  two 
couBiderably  taller  and  in  floimced  dresses.  Above  are  the  symbols  of 
the  sun  and  crescent-moon,  and  at  the  side  a  row  of  lions*  heads,  Now 
no  one  who  has  seen  this  chaton,  and  also  had  any  acquaintance  witki 
the  engraved  gems  of  the  archaic  period  of  Babylonian  art,  can  avoid 
being  stnick  by  the  fact  that  the  intaglio  is  a  copy  of  one  of  the  latter. 
The  characteristic  workmanship  of  the  Babylonian  gems  is  imitated 
by  punches  made  in  the  gold  which  give  the  design  a  very  curious 
effect.  The  attitude  of  the  figures  is  that  common  on  the  Chaldean 
cylinders  ;  the  owner  stands  m  front  of  the  deity,  of  diminutive  size, 
and  in  the  act  of  adoration,  while  the  priest-s  are  placed  behind  hinu 
The  latter  wear  the  nounced  dresRea  peculiar  to  tho  early  Babylonian 
priests;  and  what  has  been  supposed  to  represent  female  breasts,  is 
realty  a  copy  of  the  way  in  which  the  breast  of  a  man  is  frequently 
portrayed  on    Hie   cylinders4     The    palm-tree,  ivith   its    single  fruit 

♦  Given  in  the  Moniimenti  d.  Istituto  Romano,  1876. 

f  Schliemann :  Mjcenae  and  Tiryna,  p.  530. 

X  See,  for  inBtance.  the  example  given  in  EuwlinBon*8  Ancit-nt  MonarcJiiee  fist  edit.)* 
L  p-  118,  where  the  floimced  priest  hia  what  looks  like  a  woumn*B  breast.  Dancing  boys 
imd  men  in  the  Eagt  still  wear  these  floimces,  which  tire  varionalj  colonred  (ace  Loftus : 
Chatdea  and  Susiana,  p.  22;  George  Snjitli:  Aeajriim  Discoveriee^  p.  130), 



hanging  on  the  left  Bide,  ib  characterietically  Babylonian ;  so  also  are 
the  eymbok  that  encircle  the  engraving,  the  Bun  and  moon  and 
lions'  heads.  The  cbaton  of  another  gold  ring,  found  on  the  same 
spot,  is  coyered  mth  sicnilar  animal  heads.  This,  again,  is  a  copy  of 
early  Babylonian  art,  in  which  such  designs  were  not  nnfrequent, 
though,  as  they  were  afterwards  imitated  by  both  Assyrian  and 
Cyprian  engravers,  too  much  stress  must  not  be  laid  on  the  agree- 
ment.* The  artistic  position  and  age  of  the  other  ring,  however^ 
admits  of  little  doubt.  The  archaic  period  of  Babylonian  art  may  be 
said  to  close  with  the  rise  of  Assyria  in  the  fourteenth  century  BX»;  and 
though  archaic  Babylonian  intaglios  continued  to  be  imported  into  the 
West  down  to  the  time  of  the  Romans,  it  is  not  likely  that  they  were 
imitated  by  Western  artists  after  the  latter  had  become  acquainted  with 
better  and  more  attractive  models,  I  think,  therefore,  that  the  two 
rings  may  be  assigned  to  the  period  of  archaic  Babylonian  power  in 
western  Asia,  a  period  that  begins  with  the  victurit^  of  Naram-Siu 
in  Palestine  in  the  seventeenth  century  B*0*  or  earUer,  and  ends  with 
the  conquest  of  Babylon  by  the  Assyrians  and  the  cstabliBhment  of 
Assyrian  supremacy.  Tliis  is  also  the  period  to  which  I  am  inclined 
lo  refer  the  introduction  among  the  Phoenicians  and  Greelts  of  the 
cohmm  and  of  certain  geometrical  patterns,  wliich  had  their  first  home 
in  Babylonia.t  The  lentoid  gems  with  their  rude  intaglios,  found 
in  the  islands,  on  the  site  of  HersBum,  in  the  tombs  of  Mykena^  and 
ebewhere,  belong  to  the  same  age,  and  point  back  to  the  loamy  plain 
of  Babylonia  where  stone  was  rare  and  precious,  and  whence,  conse- 
quently, the  art  of  gem-cutting  was  spread  through  the  ancient 
^orld.  Wo  can  thus  understand  the  existence  of  artistic  designs 
and  other  evidences  of  civilizing  influence  among  a  people  who 
were  not  yet  acquainted  with  the  use  of  iron.  The  early  Chaldean 
Empire,  in  spite  of  the  culture  to  which  it  had  attained,  was  still 
in  the  bronze  age ;  iron  was  almost  unknown,  and  it^  tools  and 
weapons  were  fashioned  of  stone,  bone,  and  bronze.  Had  the  Greeks 
and  the  Pht;enicians  before  them  received  their  fii^at  les^yons  in  culture 
from  Egypt  or  from  Asia  Minor,  where  the  IChalybes  and  other  allied 
tribes  had  worked  in  iron  from  time  immemorial,  they  would  probably 
have  received  this  metal  at  the  same  time.  But  neither  at  UissarUk 
nor  at  Mykense  is  there  any  trace  of  an  iron  age. 

The  second  period  of  Western  artandcivihzation  is  represented  by 
some  of  the  objects  found  at  ilykenm  in  the  tombs  themselves.  Tho 
intagUos  have  ceased  to  be  Babylonian,  and  have  become  markedly 

•  See,  for  example.  L&yard  :  Ninereh  and  Babylon,  pp.  604,  (J06 ;  Di  Cesnok  :  Cyprus, 
''*  No.  7i  pK  32,  No,  19.    A  copy  of  the  Mykenieaii  engraTiiig  ia  given  in  8chlieiimmi*B 

JUi4  Tiryns,  pL  631. 
,  Hore  eepeciaUy  tha  exampl<»  in  Eawlin&on*B  Ancient  Monarcbies,  iii.  p.  403.  &nd 
L  4ia.    ForMylcenoeaa  exumplea  see  Schliemann's  Mykcnfo  and  Tiryna,  ppL  140,  152, 
Ac-     Somie  of  the  more  pe^nliiir  patterns  from  Myken^e  rr^  -  ' '    '^  e  forma  aiaimied  by 
the  "  Hatimthite"  hieroglyphics  in  the  unpublished  insei  ie-l  by  Mr*  Georgo 

Smith  frvm  the  back  of  a  mutilated  statue  at  Jembliifi  ^^ ..^ush;. 


Assyrian*  First  of  all  we  have  a  IiuntiDg  Bcene,  a  favourite  Bubject 
-with  AsByriao  aiiisfSj  but  quite  UDlaiowii  to  geniiine  Hellenic  art. 
The  disposition  of  the  figuieB  is  tliat  usual  in  Aseyriaii  sculpture,  and, 
like  the  Assyrian  king,  the  Liintsman  is  represented  as  riding  in  a 
chariot.  A  cuinparison  of  this  hunting  sceue  with  the  bas-reliefs  on 
the  tombstones  which  stood  o%"er  the  graves  shows  that  they  belong 
to  the  fiame  age,  while  the  spiral  ornamentation  of  the  stones  is 
essentially  Assyrian.  Equally  Assyrian,  though  better  engraved,  is  a 
lion  on  one  of  the  gold  prisms,  which  might  have  been  cut  by  an 
Assyrian  workman,  so  tme  is  it  to  its  Oriental  model,  and  after  tliis  I 
would  place  the  rt presentation  of  a  struggle  between  a  man  (perhaps 
Herakles)  and  a  lion,  in  which,  though  the  lion  and  attitude  of  the  com- 
batants are  Assyrian,  the  man  is  no  longer  the  Assyrian  hero  Gisdhubar, 
but  a  figure  of  more  Western  typo.  In  another  intaglio,  represeiitiug  a 
fight  between  aimed  wamors,  the  art  has  ceased  to  be  Assj-rian,  and  is 
struggliDg  to  become  native.  We  seem  to  be  approaching  the  period 
when  Greece  gave  over  walldng  in  Eastern  leading-strings,  and  began 
to  step  forward  firmly  without  help.  As  I  believe,  however,  that  the 
tombs  within  the  enceinte  are  of  older  date  than  the  Treasuries  out- 
side the  Acropolis,  or  the  Gate  of  Lions  which  belongs  to  the  same  age, 
it  is  plain  that  we  have  not  yet  reached  the  time  when  Assyro- 
Phoenician  influence  began  to  dechne  in  Greece.  The  lions  above  the 
gate  would  alone  be  proof  to  the  contrary. 

But,  in  fact,  Phoenician  influence  continued  to  be  felt  up  to  the  end 
of  the  seventh  centuiy  B.C<  Passing  by  tlie  so-called  Corinthian  vases, 
or  the  antiquitieB  exhumed  by  General  di  Cesnola  in,  Cyprus,  where  the 
Phoenician  clement  was  strong,  we  have  numerous  evidences  of  the 
fact  from  all  parts  of  Greece,  Two  objects  of  bronze  discovered  at 
Olympia  may  bo  specially  signalized.  One  of  these  is  an  oblong 
plate,  narrower  at  one  end  than  at  the  other,  ornamented  with  repousse 
work,  and  divided  into  four  compartments.  In  the  fii'st  compartmeiit 
are  figures  of  the  nondescript  birds  so  often  seen  on  the  '*  Corinthian '^ 
pottery  ;  in  the  next  come  two  Assyrian  gryphons  standing,  as  usual, 
foce  to  face  ;  wliile  the  third  represents  the  contest  of  Herakles  with 
the  Kentaur,  thoroughly  Oriental  in  design.  The  Kentaur  lias  a 
human  forefront,  covered,  however,  with  haii' ;  bis  tail  is  abnormally 
long,  and  a  tln^ee-branched  tree  rises  behind  him.  The  fourth  and 
largest  compartment  contahis  the  figure  of  the  Asiatic  goddess  with 
the  four  wings  at  the  back,  and  a  lion,  held  by  the  hind  leg,  in  either 
hand.  The  face  of  the  goddess  is  in  profile.  The  whole  design  is 
Assyro-Phamician,  and  is  exactly  reproduced  on  some  square  gold 
plates,  intended  probably  to  adorn  the  breast,  presented  to  the  Louvre 
by  the  Due  de  Luyncs.  The  other  object  to  which  I  refeixed  is  a 
bronze  dish,  ornamented  on  the  inside  with  repomsj  work  which  at 
first  Right  looks  Eg}^>tian,  but  is  really  that  Phoenician  modification  of 
Egyptian  art  bo  common  in  the  eighth  and  seventh  centuries  B.C.    An 



nm  PHCENiciANS  IN  Greece: 


inscription  m  the  Aramaic  characters  of  the  so-called  Sidonian  branch 
of  the  Phoenician  alphabet  is  cut  on  the  outside, and  reads:  ** Belong- 
ing to  Neger,  eon  of  Miga."*  As  the  word  used  for  "  eon ''  is  the 
Aramaic  har  and  not  the  Phoenician  ien,  we  may  conclude  that  the 
owner  of  the  dish  had  come  from  northern  Syria,  It  is  interesting  to 
id  a  fiilv'er  cup  embossed  with  precisely  the  fc^ame  kind  of  design,  and 
30  bearing  an  inscription  m  Phoenician  letters,  among  the  treasures 
discovered  in  a  tomb  at  Palestrina,  the  ancient  Prajneste,  more  than  a 
year  ago.  This  inecription  is  even  briefer  than  the  other:  "Eshmun- 
ya'ar  son  of  *Ashta,"t  where,  though  hen  is  employed,  the  father  s  name 
has  an  Aramaic  form.  Helbig  would  refer  these  Italian  specimens  of 
Phoenician  skill  to  the  Carthaginian  epoch,  partly  on  the  ground  that  an 
African  species  of  ape  seems  sometimes  represented  on  them;{  in  this 
case  they  might  be  as  late  as  the  fifth  centuiy  before  the  Christian  era. 
During  the  earlier  part  of  the  second  period  of  Phoenician  influence, 
Phoenicia  and  the  Phcenician  colonies  were  not  the  only  channel  by 
which  the  elements  of  Assyrian  culture  foimd  their  way  into  the  West, 
The  monuments  and  religious  behefs  of  Asia  Minor  enable  us  to  trace 
their  progress  from  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates  and  the  ranges  of  the 
Taurus,  through  Cappadocia  and  Phrygia,  to  the  coasts  and  islands  of 
the  jEgean.  The  near  affinity  of  Greek  and  Phrygian  is  recognized 
©Ten  by  Plato  ;§  the  legends  of  Midas  and  Gordius  formed  part  of 
Greek  mytliology,  and  the  royal  house  of  Mykenae  was  made  to  come 
with  all  its  wealth  from  the  golden  sands  of  the  Paktolus ;  while  on 
the  other  hand  the  cult  of  Ma,  of  Attys,  or  of  the  Ephesian  Artemis 
points  back  to  an  Assyrian  origin.  The  sculptures  found  by  Perrot|| 
and  Texier  constitute  a  link  between  the  prehistoric  art  of  Greece 
and  that  of  Asia  Minor ;  the  spiral  ornaments  that  mark  the  antiquities 
of  Mykenae  are  repeated  on  the  royal  tombs  of  Asia  Minor ;  and  the 
rains  of  Sardis,  where  once  ruled  a  dynasty  derived  by  Greek 
nrriters  from  Kin  us  or  Nineveh,  ''  the  son  of  Bel,'*  the  grandson  of 
the  Assyrian  Herakles,f  may  yet  pour  a  flood  of  light  on  the  earher 
history  of  Greece.  But  it  was  rather  in  the  first  period,  which  I  have 
termed  Phrygian,  than  m  the  second,  that  tlie  influence  of  Asia  Minor 
urae  strongest.  The  figure  of  the  goddess  riding  on  a  leopard,  with 
mural  crown  and  peaked  shoes,  on  the  rock-tablets  of  Pterium,**  is 
borrowed  rather  from  the  cylinders  of  early  Babylonia  than  from  the 
sculptures  of  Assyria;  and  the  Uissarhk  collection  connects  itself 
more  with  the  primitive  antiquities  uf  Santorin  than  with  the  later  art 
af  MykeniB  and  Cyprus.  We  have  already  seen,  however,  the  close 
relationship  that  exists  between  some  of  the  objects  excavated  at 
ilykena^  and  what  we  may  call  the  pre-Phoenician  art  of  lalysos,— 

•  LNGE  .  BE  .  MIGA\  {  Annali  d.  Ifitituto  Romano,  1S76. 

t  ASHMNYA'B  .  BNA*  SHTA,  §  Kratylus,  410  a. 

II  Ezplor&tion  Archeologiqiio  do  la  Gain tte  et  de  la  Bithrnie. 

T  See  Hecodotus,  i.  7^  **  Teuer :  Descripti^jn  d^.*  I'Ame  Miaeurej  i.  1^  pL  73. 


that  is  to  Bay,  tho  objects  in  which  the  influence  of  the  East  is 
io direct,  and  not  direct.  The  discovery  of  metallurgy  is  asBociated 
with  Dodona,  whore  the  oracle  long  continued  to  be  heard  in  the  ring 
of  a  copper  chaldron,  and  whore  M-  Karapanoa  has  found  bronze 
plates  with  the  geometrical  and  circulaT  patterns  which  distinguish  the 
earheat  art  of  Greece;  now  Dodona  is  the  seat  of  primaival  Greek 
ci^alization,  the  land  of  the  Selloi  or  Helloi,  of  the  Gmioi  themselves, 
and  of  Pelasgian  Zens,  while  it  is  to  the  north  that  the  legends  of  Or- 
pheus, of  MuBfcuSj  and  of  other  early  civilize rs  looked  back.  But  oven 
at  Dodona  we  may  detect  traces  of  Asiatic  mflnence  in  the  part 
played  there  by  the  doves,  as  well  as  in  the  stoiy  of  Deucalion's 
deluge,  and  it  may,  perhaps,  be  not  too  rash  to  conjecture  that  even 
before  the  days  of  Phamician  enterprise  and  barter,  an  echo  of  Baby- 
lonian civilization  had  reached  Greece  through  the  medium  of  Asia 
Minor,  whence  it  was  carried,  partly  across  the  bridge  formed  by  the 
islands  of  the  Archipelago,  partly  through  the  mainland  of  Thrace 
and  Epirus,  The  Hittites,  with  their  capital  at  Carcheraieh,  seem  to 
have  been  the  centre  from  which  this  borrowed  ci\'i!izati on  was  spread 
northward  and  westward.  Here  was  the  home  of  the  art  which  cha- 
racteriiies  Asia  Minor,  and  we  have  only  to  compare  the  bas*relief  of 
Ptorium  with  the  rock  sculptures  found  by  Mr,  Davis  associated  with 
llama  thite'"  hieroglyplucs  at  Ibreer,  m  Lycaonia,*  to  see  how  intimate 
is  the  connection  between  the  two.  These  hieroglyphics  were  the  stiU 
undeciphered  writing  of  the  Hittite  tribes,  and  if,  as  eeeras  possible, 
the  Cypriote  syllabary  were  derived  from  them,  they  would  be  a  testi- 
mony to  the  western  spread  of  Hittite  influence  at  a  very  early  epoch. 
The  Cypriote  characters  adopted  into  the  alphabets  of  Lycia  and 
Karia,  as  well  as  the  occurrence  of  the  same  characters  on  a  hone  and 
some  of  the  terra-cotta  discs  found  by  Dr.  Schliemann  at  Hissarlik, 
go  to  show  that  tliis  influence  would  have  extended,  at  any  rate,  to  the 
coasts  of  the  sea. 

The  traces  of  Egyptian  hifluence,  on  the  contraiy,  are  few  and  faint. 
No  doubt  the  Phcenician  alphabet  was  ultimately  of  Egyptian  origin 
no  doubt,  too,  that  certain  elementB  of  Phoenician  aii  were  borrowed 
from  Egypt,  but  before  these  were  handed  on  to  the  West,  they  had 
first  been  profoundly  modified  by  the  Phoenician  settlers  in  the  Delta 
and  in  Canaan*  The  intluence  exercised  immediately  by  Egypt  upon 
Greece  belongs  to  the  historic  period ;  the  legends  which  saw  an  Egyptian 
*migrant  in  Kekrops  or  an  Egyptian  colony  in  the  inhabitants  of  Argos 
were  fables  of  a  late  date.  Whatever  intercourse  existed  between 
Egypt  and  Greece  in  the  prehistoric  period  was  carried  on,  not  by  the 
Egyptians,  but  by  the  Ph<x;nicians  of  the  Delta ;  it  was  they  who 
brought  the  scarabs  of  a  Tliothmes  or  an  Amenophis  to  the  islands  of 
the  iEgean,  like  their  descendants  afterwards  in  Italy,  and  the  proper 
names  found  on  the  Egyptian  monuments  of  the  eighteenth  and  nine- 
*  TrwuactionB  of  tKe  Society  of  Bitolieal  Archux>logyi  iv.  2,  1876. 





teenth  dyxsaetieB,  which  certain  Egyptologists  have  identified  with  those 
of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor,  belong  rather,  I  believe,  to  Libyan  and 
Semitic  tribes/  Like  the  sphinxes  at  Spata,  the  indications  of  inter- 
ectttrse  with  Egypt  met  with  at  Mykeuaa  prove  nothing  more  than  the 
wide  e^ttent  of  Phoenician  commerce  and  the  existence  of  Phoenician 
oolonies  at  the  mouths  of  the  Nile*  Ostrich-eggs  covered  wdth  stucco 
doIphiBS  have  been  found  not  only  at  ilykense,  but  also  in  the  grotto 
'  'Uedrara  near  Vulci  in  Italy :  the  Egjrptian  porcelain  excavated  at 
-»;/;:euai  is  painted  to  represent  the  fringed  dress  of  an  Assyrian  or  a 
Phoenician,  not  of  an  Egyptian ;  and  though  a  gold  mask  belonging  to 
Prince  Kha-em-Uas,  and  regembling  the  famous  masks  of  Mykense,  has 
been  brought  to  the  Louvre  from  an  Apia  chamber,  a  similar  mask  of 
small  sixe  was  discovered  last  year  in  a  tomb  on  tlie  site  of  Aradus. 
•  Such  intercourse,  however,  as  existed  between  Greece  and  the  Delta 
must  have  been  very  restricted;  otherwise  we  should  surely  have 
some  specimens  of  writing,  some  traces  of  the  Phoenician  alphabet.  It 
would  not  have  been  left  to  the  Arameeans  of  Syria  to  introduce  the 
**  Kadmeian  letters'*  into  Greece,  and  Mykenae,  rather  than  Thebee, 
would  have  been  made  the  centre  from  which  they  were  disseminated. 
Indeed,  we  may  perhaps  infer  that  even  the  coast  of  Asia  Jfinor,  near 
as  it  was  to  tlio  PhoBniciau  settlements  at  Kamirus  and  elsewhere, 
could  have  held  but  little  intercourse  with  the  Phoenicians  of  Egypt 
from  the  fact  that  the  Cypriote  syllabary  was  so  long  in  use  upon  it, 
and  that  the  alphabets  afterwards  employed  were  derived  only  in- 
directly from  the  Phoauieian  through  the  medium  of  the  Greek* 

One  point  more  now  alone  needs  to  be  noticed.     The  long-con- 
aued  influence  upon  early  Greek  culture  which  we  ascribe  to  the 
^liCBnicians  cannot  but  have  left  its  mark  upon  the  Greek  vocabulary 
Some  at  least  of  the  names  given  by  the  Phoenicians  to  the 
EAjecte  of  luxury  they  brought  with  them  must  have  been  adopted 
iy  the  natives  of  Hellas,     \\'6  know  that  this  is  the  case  with  the 
Btte rs  of  tlie  alphabet ;  is  it  also  the  case  with  other  words  ?     If  not, 
iilcgy  would  almost  compel  us  to  treat  the  evidences  that  have  been 
smnerated  of  Phoenician  influence  as  illusory,  and  to  fall  back  upon 
le  position  of  K,  0*  Miiller  and  his  school.     By  way  of  answer  I  would 
efer  ta  the  list  of  Greek  words,  the  Semitic  origin  of  which  admits 
no  doubt,  lately  given  by  Dr.  August  Miiller  in  Bezzenberger's 
'  Beitrige  zur  Kunde  der  indogermanischen  Sprachen.^'f     Amongst 
we  find  articles  of  luxury  like  •'  linen  '*  ((/tf&mn),  **  shirt  *'  Cx^iw), 
^sackcloth*'  (yoKKtj^),  *' myrrh  "  and  "frankincense,*'  **galbanum''  and 
'cassia,**    "cinnamon'*    and    •*6oap"  (nrpw),   *•  lyres"  (vA/3Aa«)  and 
^wjne^jars**  (icaSo?),  "  balsam  '*  and  *'  cosmetics"  (^Ckos),  as  well,  pos- 
fSMy^  as  "fine  linen  "  {^06vt])  and  "  gold,*'  along  wath  such  evidences 

•  t  1v&T#  given  the  rvftsoiLs  of  my  acepticism  iu  the  Academ^t  of  Maj  30,  1874. 
BcT«  the  leading  authority  on  the  geography  of  the  Effyptuin  monuments, 
i  mm  identify  these  names  with  those  of  tribes  in  Kolkhia^  and  its  neighboHThood. 
^L  pp.  273—301  (1S77^. 



of  trade  and  literature  ae  the  *'  pledge "  or  appapiov^  the  mina^  "  the 
writing  tablet"  (StXrw),  and  the  *^ shekel."  If  these  were  the  only 
instances  of  Semitic  tincture,  they  would  be  enough  to  prove  the  early 
presence  of  the  Semitic  Phoenicians  in  Greece,  But  we  must  remember 
that  they  are  but  samples  of  a  class,  and  that  many  words  borrowed 
during  the  heroic  age  may  have  dropped  out  of  use  or  been  conformed 
to  the  native  part  of  the  vocabulary  long  before  the  beginning  of 
written  Hterature,  while  it  would  be  in  the  lesser  known  dialects  of 
the  islands  that  the  Semitic  c^lement  was  strongest.  We  know  that 
the  dialect  of  Cj^pi-us  was  full  of  importations  from  the  East. 

In  what  precedes  I  have  made  no  reference  to  the  Homeric  poems, 
and  the  omission  may  be  thought  etraoge.  But  Homeric  illustrations 
of  the  presence  of  the  PhcBuicians  in  Greece  will  occur  to  every  one, 
while  both  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  in  their  existing  form  are  too 
modern  to  be  quoted  without  extreme  caution,  A  close  investigation 
of  their  language  shows  that  it  is  the  slow  growth  of  generatioiiB ; 
jEolic  formulaB  from  the  lays  fii*st  recited  in  the  towns  of  the  Troad 
are  embodied  in  Ionic  poems  where  old  Ionic,  new  Ionic,  and  even 
Attic  jostle  against  one  another,  and  traditional  words  and  phrases 
are  furnished  with  mistaken  meanings  or  new  forms  coined  by  fake 
analogy.  It  is  difficult  to  separate  the  old  from  the  new,  to  say  with 
certainty  that  this  allusion  belongs  to  the  heroic  past,  this  to  the 
Homer  of  Theopompus  and  Euphorion,  the  contemporary  of  the 
Lydian  Gyges.  The  art  of  Homer  is  not  the  art  of  Mykenaa  and  of  the 
early  age  of  Phoemcian  influence ;  iron  is  already  taking  the  place  of 
bronze,  and  the  shield  of  Akhilles  or  the  palace  of  AUdnons  bear  wit- 
ness to  a  developed  art  which  has  freed  itself  from  its  foreign  bondfi. 
Six  times  are  Phoenicia  and  the  Phoeniciaus  mentioned  in  the  Odyssey, 
once  in  the  IHad  ;*  elsewhere  it  is  Sidou  and  the  Sidonians  that  repre- 
sent them,  never  Tyre.t  Such  passages,  therefore,  cannot  belong  to  the 
epoch  of  Tyrian  supremacy,  which  goes  back,  at  aU  events,  to  the  age  of 
David,  but  rather  to  the  brief  period  when  the  Assyiian  king  Shal- 
maneser  laid  siego  to  Tyre,  and  his  successor  Sargon  made  Sidon 
powerful  at  its  expense,  This^  too,  was  the  period  when  Sargon  set 
up  his  record  in  CypruB,  *'  the  isle  of  Yavnan ''  or  the  lonians,  when 
Assyria  first  came  into  immediate  contact  with  the  Greeks,  and  when 
Phoenician  aii-ists  worked  at  the  court  of  Nineveh  and  carried  their 
wares  to  Italy  and  Sardinia.  But  it  was  not  the  age  to  which  the 
reUcfi  of  Mykenee,  in  spite  of  paradoxical  doubts,  reach  back,  nor  that 
in  which  the  sacred  bull  of  Astarte  carried  the  Phoanician  maiden 
Europa  to  her  new  home  in  the  west. 

A.  H,  Sayce. 

*  PAomMia^  Od*  iv.  83;  xiv.  201.     Phoenicians,  Od.  xiii.  272;  xv.  415.     A  PkcsniMn^ 
04  JQT.  288.     A  Phaenician  woman,  Od.  Jtiv.  2SS  ;  11.  xiv.  321. 

t  Bidon,  Sidttnia,  11  vi.  291 ;  Od.  xiii.  286 ;  xv.  425.     Sidonians,  IL  vu  290 ,-  Od.  tT. 

B4, 6i8i  XV.  na 



rjf  the  month  of  August  last  I  contributed  to  this  Review  an  article 
under  the  above  title.  It  was  an  epitome  of  a  series  of  personal 
obeervationB  made  by  myself  with  a  view  to  finding  some  explanation 
of  a  situation  deserv^ing  the  attention  of  all  students  of  the  social 
life,  and  especially  of  the  Christian  social  life,  of  our  day.  It  was 
in  fact  a  study  iu  Christian  psychology.  It  was  not  my  idea  in  the  fii-st 
iDBtance  to  present  my  thoughts  under  the  form  of  a  question, — which 
implies  an  exhaustive  reply, — but  rather  as  a  meditation  on  the  difli- 
cnlties  in  the  way  of  Rituahsts  becoming  Roman  Catliolics.  The 
title  finally  adopted,  however,  had  the  advantage  of  bringing  the 
subject  at  once  to  a  definite  issue,  of  aiTesting  attention,  and  proToking 
all  thoughtful  minds  to  give  their  own  reply  to  the  question  thus 

Snoh  a  response  to  my  appeal  has  m  tmth  been  readily  given,  and 
the  leaders  of  this  Review  have  already  had  two  solutions  offered 
them^  the  first  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  the  second  from  that 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Littledale. 

Before  enterhig  on  the  rejoinder  which  a  careful  study  of  both 
papers  has  suggested,  I  would  first  thank  5Ir.  Gladstone  and  Pn 
Littledale  for  the  readiness  shown  by  them  to  discuss  a  problem  of 
such  vital  interest  to  all,  and,  widely  as  I  must  myself  differ  from 
many  of  the  sentiments  expressed  in  their  articles,  I  am  yet  glad  to 
recognize  that  on  more  than  one  point  we  are  in  agreement,  and  that 
we  are  all  prepared  to  say,  with  the  old  philosopher,  **  Hnmani  nihil  a 
me  aUenum  puto,*' 

I  am  gi'eatly  indebted  to  both  these  eminent  writers  for  the  service 
they  have  done  to  the  cause  of  truth  in  thus  dtawing  public  attention 
widely  to  this  important  question.     It  is  a  question  which  deserves  to 



be  pondered  aud  answered  by  a  large  number  of  those  who  accept 
the  designation  of  RituaHete.  To  many  of  these  it  is  a  matter  of  life 
and  death,  for  it  is  one  involving  their  moral  rectitude.  The  Church 
and  the  moral  sense  join  in  testifyiug  that  there  can  be  no  ealvation, 
no  right-doing  or  \4rtnous  practice,  no  conduct,  in  fact,  worthy  of 
eternal  hfe,  where  there  is  not  genuine  good  faith ;  and  the  Cathohc 
Church,  w4ien  she  eays  that  outside  her  pale  ia  no  salvation,  is  always 
careful  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  she  claims  as  belonging  to 
her,  as  her  children  in  epirit,  even  persons  livmg  in  error,  if  they  hold 
their  en'ors  in  good  foith.  CTOod  faith,  absolute  and  entire,  is  then 
an  esBential  condition  of  ealvation  ;  and  it  is  because  this  good  faith 
seems  to  ns  all  but  impossible  for  those  who  are  hngciing,  like  the 
Kitualists,  at  the  very  gates  of  light,  that  we  challenge  them  to  vin- 
dicate and  to  make  good  their  preBciit  position.  The  efforts  they  have 
already  made  to  return  to  r'atholic  doctrines  and  practices  render  it 
inconibent  on  them  to  explain  clearly  why  they  have  gone  so  far  and 
no  further. 

There  arc  undoubtedly  conditions  in  life  vrhich  render  absolute 
good  faith  a  matter  of  extreme  diflSculty.  It  requires  no  long  experi- 
ence of  men  or  things  to  discover  that  there  are  certain  truths  from 
which  human  nature  shrinks,  with  an  intuition  of  danger  lurking  in 
their  hidden  depths.  To  such  studies  rneu  need  to  be  urged  and 
impelled,  and  it  is  sometimes  the  greatest  service  tliat  can  be  rendered 
to  compel  timid  souk  to  quit,  as  it  were,  the  branch  to  which  they 
have  been  clinging,  and  to  stretch  their  wrings  towards  the  regions  of 
a  higher  and  purer  ain 

These  brief  explanations  are  intended  to  meet  the  criticism  of 
those  writers  who  have  imagined  they  could  trace  in  a  previous 
article  from  my  pen  ''  a  veiled  censure  on  the  policy  and  language  of 
the  Ultramontane  faction  now  dominant  in  the  Church  of  France,*' 
and  who  see  in  my  article  in  this  Review  "  a  quasi-retract^tion  of  the 
earher  essay.*'*  I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  say  briefly  that  I  have 
written  on  ray  own  pei'sonal  responsibility  simply,  that  I  have  con- 
EiJted  no  one,  and  that  my  sentiments  with  regard  to  that  portion  of 
the  Anglican  Church  known  as  Ritualist  are  im changed.  In  the  one 
paper  I  dwelt  on  the  nobler  aspects  of  the  movement;  m  the  other  I 
pointed  out  what  appears  to  me  to  be  its  illogical,  incomplete,  unsatis* 
factory  aspect.  Eveiy  medal  has  its  reverse ;  all  we  want  to  ascertain 
is  which  impression  is  the  more  powerful,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  avow 
my  admiration  and  esteem  for  the  Ritualist  party,  for  its  zeal,  its 
devotedness,  its  activity,  its  energy,  its  enterprise,  and  its  succeeflu 
It  is  the  very  strength  of  my  sympathy  which  leads  me  to  say  to  these 
men>  who  have  striven  so  hard  to  come  near  to  CathoUcism,  **Are 
yon  quite  sure  that  you  have  reached  the  end  at  which  you  are 
aiming  ?  Have  you  not  some  reason  to  think  that  you  have  halted 
•  CoHTBMPoaART  Bbvtew,  NoTeDibeT,  pp.  792»  798. 


half-way  t     Carefully  con&ider  this  question,   and  then  act  as  con- 
science  dictates." 

It  is  from  no  desire  to  break  a  lance  with  the  EngliRh  Church  or  its 
representatives  that  I  have  taken  up  this  suLject  I  write  in  the 
interests  of  truth,  not  from  any  love  of  controversy^  which,  conducted 
as  it  too  often  is  >vith  bitterness,  virulence,  and  mutual  recrimination, 
never  vet  made  a  convert. 

After  these  preliminary  remarks,  I  shall  proceed  at  once  to  take  up 
what  seem  to  me  the  main  points  in  the  articles  of  Mr,  Gladstone  and 
Dr*  Littledale,  I  cannot  in  the  space  at  my  disposal  attempt  any- 
thing like  an  adequate  reply.  All  I  can  do  will  be  to  make  some 
general  observations,  and  lay  down  some  leading  principles  which 
may  help  in  the  eohition  of  the  question  as  a  whole. 

I  would  observe,  first,  that  Mr.  Gladstone  avowedly  seta  aside  the 
qnefition  before  us.  He  says,  **  Into  any  of  the  specialties  attaching  to 
the  name  of  Ritualist,  or  the  name  of  Protestant,  I  will  not  enter. 
I  pass  by  the  men,  and  go  to  the  case*  The  appeal  which  I  wish  to 
recognize  is  really  a  broader  one,  on  more  open  groxmd,  in  freslier 

Jlr,  Gladstone  has  given  us  a  study  of  the  Refoi-mation,  and  while 
admitting  that  in  many  instances  it  overahot  the  mark,  while  con- 
demning some  of  the  means  employed,  and  while  pleading  "  guilty  '* 
under  many  heads  to  the  charge  against  it,  he  yet  concludes  that  as  a 
whole  it  has  been  productive  of  more  good  than  evih  Mr.  Gladstone 
himself  warns  me  that  I  must  not  expect  to  "  receive  on  all  hands 
the  benefit  of  such  admissions  as  have  here  been  made.  Many  among 
iiB  will  demur  to  them  on  their  merits,  many  more  out  of  deference  to 
tradition,  videlicet^  the  current  popular  tradition.  Some  will  probably  go 
so  far  as  to  censure  any  writer  by  whom  they  are  niade.'*t  I  thank  Mr. 
Gladstone  for  his  candour,  though  I  scarcely  needed  to  be  assured  that 
the  popular  tradition  is  still  too  strong  in  England  for  any  condemnation 
of  the  Reformation  to  be  generally  tolerated.  He  modifies  in  the 
same  way  anoUier  passage  in  lus  article,  in  which  he  has  seemed  to 
admit  that  the  prejudices  against  Roman  Catholics  have  alrao^  disap- 
peared. Nor  are  these  the  only  instances  in  these  pages  in  which  he 
furnishes  an  illuBtration  of  the  fact  that  "  it  is  a  serious  matter 
to  shake  any  tradition  established  vrtXh  regard  to  rehgiou."  Difficult, 
however,  as  it  is  to  ascei'tain  the  precise  opmion  of  the  Ritualists  on 
this  subject,  since  there  is  no  authentic  organ  of  their  opinions,  I 
imagine  that  the  great  majority  of  them  would  readily  subscribe  to 
what  Mr.  Gladstone  has  written.  There  are  many,  unquestional>ly, 
who  would  go  and  do  go  much  further,  as  all  must  be  aware  who  have 

•  CovTBMPoiLiAT  Ekvikw,  October,  p.  428. 

t  IbiiL  pp.  486.  437. 



Tcad  the  wTitings  of  Dr.  Littledale,  the  Rev.  Jlalcohn  Maccoll,  and 
the  lion.  C,  L,  AYootl,  PresiJeut  of  the  English  Church  Union,  not  to 
speak  of  the  writors  who  have  gone  thoroughly  mto  the  subject,  in 
treating  the  history  of  the  period,  I  doubt  very  much  whether  the 
great  body  of  the  Ritnahfits  regard  the  Reformation,  in  England  or  else- 
where, as  *'  a  great  and  immortal  performance ;"  and  if  some  members 
of  tliis  party  still  speak  of  the  performers  as  **  signal  public  bone- 
factors/^  others  do  not  shrink  from  applying  to  them  f^uch  epithets  as 
'^liai-e,"  "scofifers,"  '*  scoundrels,"  **  miscreants,'*  &c.,  Ac. 

Compared  with  the  expressions  constantly  occurring  in  Ritualist 
books  and  journals  edited  by  men  otherwise  moderate,  the  admissions 
made  by  Mr,  Gladstone  are  slight  indeed.  Dr.  Littledale,  in  a  letter 
to  The  (tuardim}*  brought  out  very  forcibly  the  wide  divergences  of 
view  that  might  Bubsist  with  regard  to  the  Reformation  and  the 
Reformers.    He  said :- — 

*'  It  is  quite  posaible  for  mea  to  take  very  widely  different  views  as  to  the 
B^fortnatirm  itself  in  its  chai*a<3ter  and  rt'snlts.  Some  may  look  on  it  as  a  Pen- 
tecost :  1  look  on  it  as  a  Flood,  an  act  of  Divine  vengeance,  not  of  Divine  mraee ;  a 
merited  cliastiaemeiit,  not  a  fresh  reveUtion,  .  *  .  I  gravely  assert  it  tolie  abso- 
hitclj  imposaihle  for  any  just,  educiited,  and  religious  men,  wbo  have  read  the 
history  of  the  time  in  genuine  sources,  to  hold  two  opinions  about  the  Reformers. 
They  were  each  utterly  um^edeemed  villains,  for  the  most  part,  that  the  only 
parallel  I  know  for  the  way  in  which  half -educated  people  speak  of  them  amongst 
us  is  the  appearance  of  Pontius  POate  among  the  saints  in  the  Abyssinian 

By  setting  aside  the  direct  Buhject  of  my  remarke,  Mr.  Gladstone 
has  iKit,  indeed*  deprived  it  of  all  interest ;  bnt  he  has  placed  it  at  a 
great  disadvantage.  The  study  of  the  sixteenth  centnr)-  is  imquestion* 
ably  one  well  worthy  of  the  close  attention  of  thinkers  and  philo- 
Rophers ;  for  the  whole  order  of  things  in  the  midst  of  which  we  live 
dates  from  that  epoch,  but  it  will  be  long  yet  before  an  estimate  can 
be  given  of  it  which  will  be  generally  accepted. 

I  myself  Bhoiild  not  have  attempted  to  prove  to  English  Protestants 
that  the  Reformation,  as  it  was  earned  out  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
deserves  the  reprobation  of  all  right-minded  people,  if  I  had  had  to 
adtlresR  myself  only  to  Dissenters,  Baptists,  PreBbyterians,  Methodists, 
Congregationalists,  or  even  to  adherents  of  the  Broad  or  the  Low 
Church.  I  know  too  well  that  it  would  be  labour  lost  to  diecuBS  the 
point  with  any  of  these.  We  are  too  far  removed  from  one  another  to 
catch  each  others  meaning.t    We  see  everything  under  a  different  as- 

♦  Gmrdmn.  May  16,  1863. 

f  The  ui'tjauB  of  the  Dissenting  preea  have  shown  by  their  criticLama  on  Mr.  Glad- 
fltOTte's  article  how  vain  it  would  be  to  discuBB  with  them  the  question  of  the  marit  and 
demerit  of  the  Eeformation  of  thu  tsixt^enth  century.  They  complain  that  he  haa 
attiiohcil  too  miioh  importaiice  to  Christian  orgjanization  generally,  to  the  primacy  of  St, 
Petor,  to  the  Apostolic;  CoUe^o  and  Council,  to  prayers  for  the  dead,  to  confession,  to  the 
Church,  to  tratiition,  &c.  If  Mr.  Gladstone  ia  too  Cathohc  for  the  DiflsenterSy  how  must 
they  regnTd  Bitualiats,  and,  most  of  all,  Roman  Catholics  ?  It  would  he  ohviously  fight- 
in  j^  the  air  to  propose  a  question  of  this  sort :  "  What  hinders  Protestants^  RattanaJixtSj 
Diss'^nterEi^  Brood  zmd  Low  Churchmen  from  hecominf^  Roman  Catholics  t'*  With  the 
Eitualists  the  caaa  ia  quite  different. 





pect,  and  oiir  pointe  of  view  are  directly  opposite.  With  the  RitualiBU  it 
is  not  so ;  and  indeed,  it  may  be  fairly  said,  that  fur  nearly  fifty  years  this 
advanced  section  of  the  Anglican  Church  has  been  constantly  return- 
ing to  the  old  paths,  and  effecting  what  has  been  called  in  high 
quarters  a  connter-reformation. 

All  the  force  and  all  the  interest  of  the  question  proposed  by  me  in 
August  last  hinges,  as  mil  be  readily  seen,  on  the  word  RituaUsL  It 
can  be  no  ground  for  surprise  that  Protestants,  holding  the  views  of 
their  Church  or  of  Nonconfomnty,  should  not  think  of  becoming 
Roman  Cathohcs ;  but  how  is  it  tliat  the  Ritualists  pause  half-way  ? 

I  am  well  aware  of  the  difficulty  there  is  in  giving  such  a  definition 
of  the  principles,  behefs,  and  aims  of  the  Ritualists  as  shall  be 
accepted  by  all  j  for  their  party  bears,  in  this  respect,  the  true  image 
of  the  Church  from  which  it  springs,  and  much  **  comprehension '* 
is  necessary  in  order  to  include  under  one  and  the  same  deRignation 
all  the  individual  varieties  of  Ritualism.  The  scale  wbicli  extends 
from  the  High  Church,  pure  and  simple,  to  extreme  Ritualism,  con- 
tains many  notes,  and  presents  gradations  of  tone  very  ditBcidt  to 
distinguish.  It  may  perhaps  be  said,  within  the  limits  of  truth,  that 
the  Ritualists  accept  all  the  beliefs  and  all  the  practices  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  with  very  rare  exceptions.  It  is  certainly  far  easier 
to  enumerate  the  things  winch  they  do  not  receive  than  those  %vhich 
they  do  ;  as,  for  example,  the  Iniinacidate  Conception  and  tlie  supreme 
jurisdiction  and  infallibility  of  the  Pope  in  his  capacity  as  Head  ot 
the  Church.  If  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,  these  aru  the  grave 
dacirinal  difficulties  at  which  the  Ritualists  stumble,  and  which  hinder 
them  from  becoming  Roman  Catliolics.  On  almost  all  other  points 
they  are  in  agreement  with  them.  They  acknowledge  the  Church  as 
a  divine  institution  ;  they  would  easily  be  brought  to  declare  it  infal- 
lible, though  this  is  not  qnite  in  accordance  with  Article  XXL  The 
only  difficulty  is  to  determine  when  and  how  this  infallibility  comes 
into  operation.  With  regard  to  prayers  for  the  dead*  the  adoration  of 
the  saints,  of  the  Virgin,  &c,,  the  Ritualists  have  long  cast  away,  and 
taught  others  to  cast  away,  their  Protestant  prejudices.  The  actions 
against  Mr.  Ridsdale  and  llr.  llaekonochie  have  given  sufficient  proof 
of  the  length  to  which  the  Ritualists  have  gone  in  this  direction, 

I  know  that  •*  popular  tradition,"  and  even  sometimes  the  tradition  of 
'rmen  thoughtful  and  trained/' still  speaks  of  Romish  superstitions, 
and  charges  the  CathoUc  Church  with  haviog  made  im warrantable 
additions  to  its  worship.  In  the  papers  of  both  Mr.  Gladstone  and 
Dr.  Littk'dale  we  catch  an  echo  of  these  old  accusations.  It  must  bo 
obvious  to  them,  however,  that  the  common  people  cannot  be  reached 
the  same  way  as  thoughtful  and  educated  men ;  and  experience 
it  have  shown  them  that  it  is  not  by  a  dry,  colourleye,  p^^rt^ly 
intellectual  service,  such  as  to  a  gi-eat  extent  the  Protestant  ^ervice 
has  become,  that  the  masses  of  the  people  are  moved  and  governed. 



IntluE  respect,  tlie  EDglieh  Ritualism  which  Mr,  Gladstoue  and  Dr.  Little- 
dale  defend  so  well  serves  as  an  admirahle  illustration.  If  Anglicaniam 
has  recovered  Bome  hold  upon  the  masses,  it  has  been  by  abandon- 
ing the  diy,  bald  traditions  introduced  into  Eogland  by  the  Puritans, 
and  still  adhered  to  by  Lo%v  Church  Evangelicals. 

To  return,  however,  to  that  point  from  which  we  started.  When 
we  find  men  who  believe  and  practise  well-nigh  all  that  is  practised 
and  beheved  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  who  each  year  are 
adi>pting  some  fresh  belief  or  practice  from  the  same  source,  may 
we  not  fairly  say  to  them,  \\\iy  do  you  remain  at  all  where  you 
are  ?  Why  do  you  not  become  Roman  CathoHcs  *  at  once  1  Con- 
sider, in  fact,  what  your  position  is,  A  little  more  than  three  hun- 
di^ed  yearn  ago,  you  formed  part  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 
You  received  its  dogmas,  its  laws,  its  envoys ;  you  were  members  of 
that  great  community.  Then  one  day,  by  no  fault  of  yours  it  is  true, 
but  by  the  fault  of  the  times,  of  your  grasping  aristocracy,  and 
.most  of  all  of  your  king,  you  broke  with  Rome,  and  accepted  that 
Refiirmation  which  one  of  your  own  organs  brands  in  the  following 
tenns  t — 

**  The  so-called  Reformation  of  tlie  sixteen tk  century  was  in  reality  no 
R^jfornmtioti  at  alL  When  H*  nry  Till,  kicked  out  th<2  Pope,  he  made  himself 
Pope,  and  Bomethin^f  more.  The  Tudor  syetcm  was  only  Popery  Erastianized. 
The  great  object  of  the  Reformers  was  the  confiscation  of  Chm-eh  property.  The 
removal  of  abuses,  the  restoratiuu  of  Churek  rights,  were  not  thought  of  tlien ; 
nor  have  they  been  cared  for  since.  The  cii^l  government  haa  gone  even  fiulher 
than  the  Roman  Cnrii^i  in  iiBurpiug  the  rights,  and  restiieting  the  Jiiet  liberties,  of 
the  Church,  The  incapacity  and  foUy  of  the  Privy  CLiuneil,  which  may  he  fitly 
described  as  the  '  Pajjacy  in  Commission,'  have  l>roujjht  umtters  t^:*  a  crisis,  and 
some  change  must  be  speedily  made.  But  what  Is  t*j  be  the  nature  of  that 
change  P  The  necessities  of  the  preBcnt  time,  the  tenor  of  legislation  from  Magna 
Charta  down  to  the  Tudor  period,  the  principles  of  the  Reformation,  the  divinely- 
oi"dered  constitution  of  the  Church,  all  point  in  one  direction — the  State  must 
concede  to  tlie  Chnrcli  her  inalienable  right  of  managing  her  own  affairs. 
Establish  men  t»  if  we  mean  by  this  term  the  subjection  of  the  Church  to  State 
control^  must  lx»come  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  Oxford  movement,  from  which 
auch  great  and  lasting  lH.^nelt8  have  already  resulted,  necesearily  involves  thi^, 
and  must  be  either  nnllilied  or  result  in  it,*'t 

Nor  IS  it  one  joimial  alone  which  speaks  thus  of  the  Refonnation  in 
a  single  passage:  the  writers  may  be  connted  by  hundreds  who  refer 
to  thifl  subject  nnifonnly in  the  same  tone : — "In  sober  truth  the  English 
Reformation  was  an  unmitigated  disaster.  It  was  simply  a  hypo- 
critical pretence  to  veil  an  insurrection  of  lust  and  avarice  against 
religion  ;  it  corrected  no  e\"il  whatever,"} 

*'  On  the  Avhole,  there  is  no  reason  ^vhatever  to  suppose  that  there 
is  any  larger  proportion  of  really  God-fearing  pei-sons  now  than  there  J 

•  I  said  iu  my  former  paper  that  liitualiEta  reject  the  mi  mo  of  Cathollcfi  simply*  We 
have  been  t^:»ld,  and  iu8tl3%  that  this  is  not  true.  But  when  RitnaUsts  call  themselves 
Cath^Uci^  they  do  not  take  the  word  in  ita  ordinary  meaning*  This  is  ao  much  the  case 
that  if  in  England  a  person  waa  spoken  of  as  a  Catholic,  no  one  would  imagine  for  ii 
moment,  without  a  previous  explanation,  that  what  waa  intended  was  en  Anglican. 

f  Chvtrch  Review,  1875.  p.  451>,  col.  3. 

j  Church  Times,  May  14,  18G^. 




iras  before  the  reformation  of  religiou  was  taken  in  hand  by  a 
<ompiracif  of  eululterersy  murdertra^  and  thievetf !  "* 

It  is  true  that  these  are  not  recent  testimonies.  Lest,  therefore,  we 
should  be  accused  of  being  thirty  years  in  arrear,  we  will  quote  another 
witness,  and  this  time  not  from  the  ranks  of  w^hat  might  be  called  the 
tnfmis  perdim  of  Ritualism.  We  cite  from  the  address  of  the  President 
of  the  English  Church  Union,  dehvered  only  a  few  monthfi  ago. 
He  says : — 

"  However  necessary  that  wliicli  was  popultirlj  called  tbe  Reformation  maj  Lave 
|j^>^  ♦..  1-  Tthe  air,  it  was  impoasible  to  sympathize  fully  either  with  th^^se  who 
car;  t  or  with  much  that  thej  diii.    No  doubt  it  waa  ciceedinglj  difficult  to 

pl;i  vos  in  their  position,  and  for  many  thingia  they  coiild  not  l>e  acconntijd 

n?t  I  neverthelesi,  the  fact  remain<>d  that  while  they  got  rid  of  many  alrascs. 

in  >  s  they  hoped  to  restore  primitive  faith  and  practice  to  the  nation  at 

large  ih*itj  fi^mjlly  faded  of  tfn^ce^^s.  The  position  the  Holy  Eucharist  had  i:>ecupicd 
amongst  us  m  these  later  times,  was  a  proof  of  this  assertion.  The  instance  was 
a  cniotal  one.  Tbe  Reformers,  like  the  Ooimcil  of  Trent,  wished  to  get  rid  of 
solitary  Mbsscs^  and  to  bring  back  frequent  communion-  The  motive  was  excellent, 
hut  how  was  it  caiTied  out  ?  By  acts  on  the  part  of  individuals,  snch  as  tb«j 
destruction  of  altars,  of  which  they  could  never  think  without  shame,  and  by 
alterations  in  the  Liturgy  which  had  the  practical  effect  both  of  obsctu*iiig  in 
papular  estimation  the  great  Ohristian  doctrine  of  the  Euchanstic  Sacrifice*  and 
Ijiring  to  the  Church  of  England  the  unenviable  distinction  of  celebrating  the 
Holy  Communion  less  frequently  than  any  other  portion  of  the  Christian  Church, 
Thia  practical  neglect  of  the  Sactumental  system,  and  all  that  it  involved, 
iiocotmted  for  the  failure  of  the  Church  of  England  hitherto » t*>  get  hold  of  the 
people  generally,  notably  in  such  districts  as  Wales  and  Cornwall,  which,  like 
Bnttany,  ought  naturally  to  be  the  strongholds  of  the  Church.  Her  altars*  too 
lon^  empty  of  all  that  made  them  precious,  had  been  abandoned  for  the  emotional 
excitement  of  Protestant  Dissent,  And  yet,  strauffe  to  say.  in  the  sight  of  such 
faet^  ^f"  ^^^'^  members  of  the  Church  of  England  uad  been  mai-ked  out  by  one 
chii  ic  more  than  another,  it  had  been  by  the  a^eriion  of  the  cU>9oluU  p«- 

ficti.,-  ;  ■-:.,lI  portion  of  tfie  Church  to  whi^  iheu  belonged.  These  words  were  not 
Vtteied  in  any  feeling  of  discontent ;  they  did  not  betoken,  as  the  Bishop  of 
Gloooeater  and  Bristol  might  perhaps  suggest,  that  the  real  home  of  their  affec 
tions  was  elsewhere/'f 

I  do  not  of  course  lose  eight  of  the  fact  that  it  is  often  fair  and 
neodfiil  to  diBtmguiBh  between  the  acts  and  the  men.  The  men  may 
be  bad  and  the  acts  good  and  praiseworthy*  I  should  not,  how- 
ever, be  prepared  to  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  **  it  is  one  of  the  cha- 
nicteriBtic  marks  of  God*8  providential  intervention  in  the  affairs  of 
men  that  He  sometimes  uses  bad  or  worthless  instruments  to  achieve 
His  purposes.^t  Do'ubtless  the  **  sometimes  *'  correcbs  to  some  extent 
the  "characteristic/'  but  we  have  too  high  an  idea  of  the  goodness  of 
God  to  admit  that  it  may  be  one  of  His  providential  laws  to  chooso 
*'  bad  **  instruments  to  do  excellent  works. 

But  do  the  Ritualists  all  thus  distinguish  between  the  Reformers 
and  the  Reformation  ? 

We  know  that  on  this  point  there  is  less  unanimity  than  on  the  pre- 
ceding.    Many,  when   they  speak   of  the   Reformation   in   general, 

*  Oxonius  :  Facts  and  Tefitimanj  touohm|3[^  EitualiBtu,  2Qd  ed.  p.  72. 
t  Ckurth  Times,  January  25.  1878»  p.  52,  ooL  1* 

t  The  Bey-  Malcolm  MaocoU  on  "  The  Principles  of  the  Eeformation  "  in  the  Chwreh 
•— =-^,  ISifib  p.  227,  cxA,  a. 

G  2 



defend  and  approve  it,  and  recognize  it  as  necesfiary ;  thougli  when 
tliey  come  to  detaik  they  mvariably  ^vitbdraw  all  their  enconiiums. 
But  a  very  large  proportion  do  not  hesitate  to  condemn  it  m  iota.  I 
have  already  quoted  paesages  which  arc  very  conclusive  on  this 
point,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  multiply  such  citations  from  very  recent 

In  factj  for  the  last  fifty  years  the  religions  movement  has  been 
entirely  retrograde,  and  might  be  fairly  characterized  by  the  words 
Vestigia  retrorsiim,  which  were  need  not  long  since  in  a  joiimal  not  of 
the  extreme  school,  as  the  heading  of  an  article  wliich  gave  a  de- 
Bcription  of  the  inevitable  consequences  of  this  retrograde  movement, 
if  carried  on  without  the  support  of  the  Church,  The  Church  Review 
eays : — 

**  In  ordinary  cases,  if  a  man  hae  lost  hie  way,  the  best  thing  he  can  do  is  to 
retrace  his  footsteps.  If  he  tries  to  take  a  short  cut,  or  to  travel  across  an  anknown 
country,  the  chances  ai*e  that  he  makes  bad  worsen  tn'  that  ai  Hie  fnoai  he  tooMiei 
further  time  and  strength.  Now  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Reformers ;  but 
one  clear  outcome  of  their  handiwork  is  this — that,  until  the  Catholic  revival, 
we  had  as  a  people  lo$t  our  iimy  in  the  viaUet*  ofwonhip.  The  Mass  had  vanished 
as  the  central  act  of  ChnBtian  worship.  This  wa«  admittedly  the  state  of  things 
which  the  Catholic  revival  found  when  it  commencedj  and  with  tbia  abuse  it  has 
been  one  of  its  foremoBt  duties  to  ^lipple,  for  no  man  can  be  said  to  understand 
the  Catholic  faith  who  does  not  make  the  Holy  Eucharist  the  centre  and  channel 
of  hie  worship^  and  no  priest  can  hope  to  Catholicizie  his  flock  unless  he  makes  for 
this  point.  As  to  this  we  are  all  agreed.  But  when  we  look  aroimd  us  we  fail 
to  see  any  '  consensus  *  as  to  tlie  means  to  be  employed  in  attaining  to  this  end. 
In  many  cases  short  cats  are  taken,  and  with  the  usual  result.  In  other  cases 
priests  try  new  ways,  suggested  by  their  own  originality  of  invention,  the  result 
of  which  is  certaimy  not  more  satisftictory.*'* 

Here,  then,  is  a  series  of  ackBOwledged  facte  i — 

1.  The  English  Reforniatiou  was  not  the  result  of  religious,  Christian, 
and  stipeniatiiral  mflnences  at  work  in  the  minds  of  men. 

2.  The  Refonnere,  having  Httle  personal  claim  to  respect,  are  un- 
wo  I  thy  of  the  name< 

3.  The  confieqnences  of  the  Reformation  have  been  deplorable  alike 
from  a  religions,  moral,  and  social  point  of  view, 

4.  The  only  course  open  to  Anglicans  is  to  retrace  their  steps,  and  to 
repudiate  the  Reformation,  the  Reformers,  and  their  principles. 

5.  Hitherto  this  retrograde  movement  has  been  made  in  an  arbitrary, 
erratic,  almost  chaotic  fashion.f 

•  Church  Meview,  187S,  p.  31,  col.  3, 

f  Note  how  a  Eitimhst  BpealcB  of  the  Anglican  Churchj  after  forty  yoftra  of  effort  and 
triumph  on  the  part  of  the  Eitoalists.  We  should  not  have  dared  onrselTea  to  use 
Lingua ge  80  bold  : — 

'*  Tho  numerouH  awful  scandals  which  make  our  unhappy  Chui'ch  almost '  a  hold  for 
fcTory  im clean  heflst,  and  a  cage  for  every  unclean  bird  * — to  wit,  the  '  marriage  *  of 
'  divorctd  *  perBons  by  priests  of  our  Church  ;  tht?  '  marriage '  in  our  churches  hy  om* 
priests  of  Christians  (so  calltHl)  writh  Jews,  infidels,  and  heretics  ;  the  inceBsantly  recur- 
ring burials,  with  our  Burinl  Oflicc,  and  by  our  pricfiti?,  of  suicides,  upon  the  mere 
stiength  of  the  transparent  verdict '  while  of  unsound  mind/  many  of  them  dying  simply 
because  mad  with  drink — that  curee  of  our  nation  ;  burials  of  open  infidels  and  known 
evil- livers  of  aU  sorts  ;  the  utter  want  of  any  legal  qu(?6tioning  by  th©  priest  in  baptism, 
in  man'iagej  in  ccEfirmation»  in  Eucharifit»  or  in  burial^that  is,  questioning  of  a  nature 
to  eniure  seme  rafeguard  frcm  the  profanations  of  each  and  all  these  rites  which  occur 


Yet  further  it  is  admitted  : — 

1.  That  the  Church  is  in  its  origin  divine. 

2.  That  it  is  divine  in  its  life, 

3.  That  it  does  not  depend  on  men ;  that  it  is  a  separate  power  ii> 
lependent  of  the  State. 

4-  That  it  has  and  ought   to   have  a  **Uving  voice/'  laws,   and 

ibunals  of  its  own. 

In  addition  to  this  it  is  admitted  that  the  Roman  Catholic  Cliurcli 

formed,  and  still  forms,  part  of  the  Church  of  Jesns  Clirist.     A  few 

[yeare  ago  English  Churchmen  went  even  further,  and  spoke  of  the 

|Boman  Catholic  Cliurch  only  with  respect  and  love  and  with  a  mani- 

feat  desire  to  be  re-nnited  to  it. 

^Vhen  we  come  in  contact  with  a  body  of  men  hohling  the  opinions 

[of  the  RituaUsts,  does  it  not  seem  natm*al  to  say  to  them ;  **  What  is  it 

[that  hinders  yon  from  going  to  the  head  of  the  Catholic  Cliurch  and 

liaying  to  him  frankly,  *  We  have  been  misled;  we  acknowledge  the 

error  of  our  fatliers*  and  we  return  to  you  V     You  condemn  almost 

Bverything  in  the  Reformation,  except  the  rebellion  against  Iiim  who 

irae  head  of  the  Church.     Are  you  very  sure  that  you  have  gone  as 

[far  as  you  desire  to  go  ?     Are  you  certain  that  you  ought  not,  in 

I  order  to   be  consistent,  to  make   your  Bubmission  to  the  Supremo 


It  appears  to  me  that  there  is  special  reason  to  urge  on  men  in  the 

[position  of  the  Ritualists  this  question,  w^iich  would  have  no  force  if 

luddressed  to  Evangelicals  or  Diesenters,  to  Greeks  or  Russians,      The 

fBitualistfi  "do  not  truly  belong  to  the  Chm-ch  of  England,**  for  they 

strain  the  limits  of  that  Church  in  one  direction  to  a  degree  incom- 

I  palible  with  its  formularies,   and    hence    friends  and  enemies  alike 

[charge  them  with  being  Romanists  in  diBgnise,  or  Romanizers.     Some 

[€ven  go  so  far  as  to  brand  them  as  *' traitors"  and  ** conspirators," 

fvhich  is  in  no  sense  true  according  to  the  strict  and  proper  meaning 

J  of  those  words. 

From  another  point  of  view»  however,  it  may  be  said  that  the 

'  BitoaUHta  continue  the  traditions  of  Anglicanism  under  a  rather  more 

le  and  dangerone  guise  "     Anglicanism,  in  fact,  is  a  combination 

I^ai»t»ipiimT|y*  tii£  feufvl  ovils  and  rottenness  of  the  whole  Divorce  Court  syntein  ;  the  uti^ 
d  uqr  Tml  disciplme,  ntle,  or  order,  throtighoat  the  whole  Anglican  Cbarch« 
^  Wb&Mj  *Qrerj  man  doeth  that  which  iB  right  in  hia  own  eje«  (lard  and  «9R»0Dt 
i  wbo  reaUj  atriTe  onlj  to  obey  the  Church  too  mnch,  and  to  be  too  rercreDt) ; 
Bt  not  ]eui,  tb£  profane  and  ridieolotit  inamlt  of  th«  State's  last  attempt  at 
J  wHh  the  thiogB  of  God«  the  Court  of  Lord  Penzance^  and  ita  parent  the  Public 
J  Bcgnlatkm  Ax±  (of  a  Parliament  of  all  belids  and  none)/'  &c*    ... 
8»  ti^  cnmseatioii  oontinnes.    We  refer  readera  wha  wiah  to  follcrw  tt  fmtber  to  the 
,  Angnrt  10,  1S7S,  p.  i7S.  coU.  2,  3. 

tmmm  which  Dr.  Littledale  girea  in  exphuiation  of  th6  caodaot  of  !!»• 

lai  a  mam  muH  not  f^yrwake  the  rtligium  of  hiifathtr^.     But  to  tfaia  it  wmf  ba 

ilMi  Iha  Bftaaliata»  in  becoming  Bomaa  Catholaos,  ane  otdj  returning  to  lh« 

I «f  tbeir  f%mn\lfM>gru    We  are  remipded  of  the  T«p)7  of  tbe  frcnch  ▲mbaMMdor, 

1  if  it  did  not  gziaTe  him  to  be  buried  in  England,  in  Froiertant  gr«Miiid« 

BOKOoalj,  "  Whj  skyold  it  grieve  me  }    Let  them  onljr  go  a  lew  feet  deeper, 

L  Ind  mjiM  m  Catholic  groood-" 



of  all  the  doctrines  and  practices  ranging  from  the  borders  of  Roman 
Catholicism  to  pure  DeiBm,  It  appears  as  though  this  syetem  had 
boen  framed  with  a  view  to  retain  within  its  boRom  all  descriptions  of 
Christians,  excepting  pure  Roman  Catholics  and  pure  Deists.  To  fulfil 
its  design,  therefore,  it  ought  to  embrace  at  one  extreme  all  the 
affirmations  of  ratholiciRm,  minuB  Cathohcism,  and  at  the  other  all  the 
negations  of  EationaliPm,  minus  nationalism,  pure  and  simple*  In  this 
respect  it  may  be  said  that  never,  even  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
was  AnglicaniBm  so  perfect.  To-day  the  Broad  Church  party  are 
vj^ng  on  some  points  with  the  RationaHsts  of  Germany,  and  Catholics 
might  sometimes  take  lessons  from  the  Ritualists.  The  Broad  Church 
party  retain  those  who  are  inclining  to  Rationahsm ;  the  Ritualists  stop 
the  way  of  those  who  were  in  full  march  for  Rome,  or  beguile  them 
by  their  incantations  into  remaining  where  they  are.  They  thus  play 
the  part  of  the  sirens  in  the  fable,  and  in  this  sense  it  is  only  just  to 
acknowledge  that  they  do  "  continue  the  traditions  of  Anghcanism 
tinder  a  rather  more  subtle  and  dangerous  guise." 

I  think  I  have  now  shown  that  there  is  gi'ound  for  addressing  to  the 
Ritualists  the  question,  which  to  others  would  be  impertinent :  *'  What 
hinders  you  from  becoming  Roman  Catholics?  "  They  are  in  fact  far 
nearer  to  Rome  in  their  beliefs,  tlieir  practices,  their  worship  and  aims^ 
than  the  other  sections  of  the  Anglican  Church,  and  notably  than  the 
Nonconformist  sects. 

Mr.  Gladstone  has  replied,  firstj  by  an  argument  a  pari^  which  he 
expresses  thus  :* — - 

"  The  Abbe  must  be  aware  not  only  of  the  admitted  neiLmeaa  of  the  East  ems  to 
tht*  Roman  pattern,  but  aleo  of  the  fact  that  nothing  is  so  rareaa  a  tlioological  or 
ecclesiaetical  coarersioB  from  among  them  to  the  Latin  communion.  He  may, 
then,  do  w^ll  to  take  the  beam  of  the  non-convcraion  of  Greeks  and  Ruasiiins  out 
of  hie  cjet  before  be  troubles  himself  so  aeriouely  vrith  the  mote  of  the  uon^conver- 
fiion  of  Rititalifita/'  f 

To  this  objection  it  may  be  replied  that  thepoBitlon  of  Ritnalistw  is  in  no 
way  pai'allel  with  that  of  the  Orthodox  Greeks,  and  it  is  for  this  reason 
that  the  Greeks  have  so  coldly  received  the  advances  repeatedly  made 
to  them  of  late  yeara  by  the  Chnrch  of  England.  As  regards  the  Greeks 
and  Eastern  Christians,  the  qucBtion  m  almost  entirely  one  of  schism. 
Except  on  the  point  of  the  piimaey  of  St,  Peter  and  of  his  successors, 

•  CoNTKirpORA.BT  E«vi«w,  October,  p.  427- 

+  Mr.  Gtadstone  hafl  taken  our  TwrniLrks  on  the  "dead  or  dying  Christianity  of  the 
East  *'  as  an  inanlt  to  the  miefortimj^s  of  Christian b  oppressed  by  the  Turks.  Wo  would 
reply,  in  the  first  place,  that  we  hjid  no  intention  of  speakingly  slightingly  of  Christians 
who  have  a  cMm  on  our  interest  and  sympathy.  A nd  next,  we  wonlddraw  Mr.  G la<lstone*8 
attention  to  the  fact,  that  there  are  in  the  Ea^t  seventy  millions  of  Christians,  not 
subject  to  the  Turks,  who  have  never  shown  any  great  signs  of  life. 

Dr.  Littledale  takes  exception  also  to  the  word  **  produced  "  in  this  sentence  :  "  The 
Anglican  ihetiry  Jias  jfroduced  the  Eaaiem  Churehes**  (Contehtpohaet  Review,  August,  p. 
125).  The  word  is  not  indeed  strictly  accurate  ;  1>ut  t  he  sense  is  true.  Thtxtries  often  ex^ 
in  fiiAit  before  they  have  been  formulated,  Thit  Anglican  theory  of  bi-anchos  of  the  one 
Church  lies  at  the  root  of  the  schisms  of  the  Oriental  Churches. 





yn  &» 



«if  Ae 


( to  icmpn^  Aai  o 

Brif  SpiA  tiiere  vas  uoi,  ptvpcsfy'  gpaAmg:. 

Ifti  rwifi  III  Mill  rill  LstmOnn^ 

doctiiial  and  thvofegml  feoAon  ef  Ibr  Gr«cfai 
befter  ihaa  Ibit  ef  UT  Prote8te«|  wet. 
and  the  Greeks  maj  eren,  iticNi|^  in  m  Torr  lortgfeted 
ikeiiwCtoMqMrMtai.  Bat  for  tii^  itilMiiti  whtil  Mn 
be  soid  wfcfli  k  aud  ?  It  ranal  be  eosfefioad  tlial  finwi  the  tma  of  tlie 
ap  to  Ae  t^egixmiDg^  of  A^  preeecil  eentaix,  the  moral  and 
ffneh  that  eren  the  caprlal  truths  of  Chri»» 
thfoee  r^latm^  to  tiaptismal  regeiieratioiu  to  the 
nmiilier.  order,  and  character  of  the  sacrament^  to  the  Real  IVesence* 
to  the  wmcn&ce  of  the  ^laaa,  to  prajers  for  the  dead4  to  the  w^irship  of 
Hie  Tirgin  and  of  the  aamtS)  to  ApoetoHe  sneceaeiofi,  to  the  origin, 
nature*  and  pemmnence  of  the  Chmrch^ — all  were  contested*  denied, 
aad  lepi&diiited  br  a  large  proportion,  if  not  by  the  great  body  of  the 
dmrch.  It  must  be  owned  that  the  Anglictiu  Orders».  con- 
by  maBT  from  the  first  as  noH  and  regarded  practically  for 
f  than  a  centniy  ob  merely  ceremonial  have  become  in  our  day 
dnbions  firom  the  laxity  with  which  for  a  long  time  the 
orffioaiice  of  baptism  has  been  administered.  Who  dooa  not  call  to 
mind  the  clamour  raised  in  Ritnalist  journals,  like  the  Ckurth  7Vwf* 
and  the  CJlwrrA  RerUic,  by  the  question  of  the  fact  and  validity  of  the 
baptism  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  f  Kven  if  it  be  allowed  that 
Fiaike/s  consecration  was  valid — a  point  much  in  dispnte — it  re- 
mains none  the  less  doubtful  whether  the  Orders  received  by  the 
AngKcans  of  to-day  are  valid.  This  fact  is,  indeed,  so  patent  that  for 
the  last  two  years  we  have  heard  often  of  Anglican  priests  who  have 
sought  ordination  elsewhere. 

Now,  if  this  be  granted — and  on  this  subject  the  testimonies  of 
Ritualists  are  abundant  and  uniform — what  course  of  conduct  is 
incumbent  on  men  who  believe  in  the  Church  as  a  divine  inBtitution, 
in  Apostolic  succession,  in  the  ueceBsity  of  the  sacraments  and  of  the 
reUgious  Orders,  and  who  regard  heresy  and  Bchism  ae  crimcH  con- 
demned by  Holy  Scripture,  and  still  more  clearly  and  einphatically 
condemned  by  the  constant  practice  of  that  "  primitive  and  undivided 
Church"*  to  which  they  so  often  appeal?  What  did  they  do  in  tho 
early  ages  with  thote  who  were  guilty  of  heresy  ur  h(  hisni  t  Ttuy 
put  in  practice  the  counsel  of  St*  Paul:  **Cfum  ejut^mudi  nco  cibiini 
smnere"(lCor.  V.  11). 




The  course  of  conduct  becoming  men  who  hold  the  principles  I  hare 
just  described  is  clear  and  plain.  There  is  not  a  philosophical  or 
theological  treatise  which  does  not  ea}^  when  it  is  a  question  of  things 
necessartf  (a  mli-atiou,  a  probable  opioiou  will  not  suffice,  there  must  be 
certainty >  And  this  coume  of  conduct,  which  must  commend  itself  to 
every  reasonable  man,  is  specially  incumbent  on  those  who  do  not 
hesitate  boldly  to  criticize  the  Holy  See  for  having  recently  bestowed 
the  title  of  Doctor  of  the  Church  on  St.  Liguori,  a  man  who,  they  8ay» 
has  espoused  the  unauthorized  theories  of  PyohaUUsm,  But  even  if 
this  be  BO  (for  1  forbear  to  enter  on  the  much-vexed  queBtion), 
St.  Liguori  would  never  have  embraced  principles  which  could  justify 
the  conduct  of  the  Ritualists, 

What,  in  fact,  are  the  Ritualists  doing  t  They  are  living  in  daily 
contact  with  men  whom  they  know  to  be  heretics,  and  whom  they 
treat  as  such.  They  are  contenting  themselves  with  Orders  which 
they  know  are  regarded  as  dubious,  which  they  themselves  believe  to 
be  so ;  or  they  go  elsewhere,  seeking  contraband  Orders  from  they 
know  not  what  bishops  or  what  sect.  Is  conduct  Uke  this  logical  t 
Is  it  consistent  or  in  harmony  with  the  principles  which  they  hold,  at 
least  theoretically? 

^Mien  we  calmly  observe  the  course  of  events  as  it  is  passing 
before  our  eyes,  we  can  but  ask  what  is  it  which,  in  the  \dew  of 
Anghcans  and  Ritualists,  constitutes  heresy  or  schism? 

Not  long  ago  a  religious  journal,  well  known  for  its  advanced 
Evangelical  ophiions,*  inserted  a  letter  containing  a  series  of  ques- 
tions, at  the  head  of  which  appeared  the  following  :— 

**  1.  AeaumiBg  tlie  Cliurcli  of  England  to  be  a  tiue  Chui'cli,  is  it  so  {a)  because  it 
is  episcopal,  or  \h)  because  it  is  establisked,  or  ic)  because  it  is  Protestant? 

'*  2.  Would  oiir  Church  cease  to  be  a  true  Churcb  if  (a)  for  any  reason  it 
dispensed  with  episcopacy,  or  (6)  if  it  were  disestablished,  or  (c)  if  it  ceased  to  be 
Protestant  ? 

**  3*  Ai-e  the  Dissenting  Churches  m  England^as  RituaMsts,  so-called  High 
Church  men »  and  even  some  Evangelical  Protestant  Churehmen  assert — *  schis- 
matical  *  commuuities  ;  and,  in  that  case,  are  they  t<>  l>e  bo  regarded  because  they 
arc  nou- episcopal,  or  because  they  are  non-estabhshcd  ?'* 

Still  more  reeentlj,  another  jounialf  mserted  a  correspondence,  in 
wliich  the  fuUowiiig  admission  was  made  i- — 

*'  Would  not  the  Clinrch  Mevietv  Ik?  rendering  good  service  to  the  Church  of 
England  if  its  influence  were  used  to  prevail  upon  the  clei'gy  generally  to  sneak 
out  more  strongly  witli  respect  to  the  teri'ible  sm  of  schism  ?  Surely  themalcmg 
light  of  the  i-ending  of  the  mystical  body  of  Christ  is  a  sin,  not  merely  of  our 
nation,  but  virtually,  indeed,  of  our  Church,  or  at  least  of  the  majority  of  her 
members.  Often  enout^h  do  we  hear  this  sin  condemned  in  general  terms ;  but 
then  the  tt^rms  are  «w  general^  the  condemnation  &o  very  mildly  expressed,  the 
allowances  to  be  made  so  numeroasp  the  exhortations  to  charity  so  touching,  the 
warnings  not  to  judge  others  bo  appalling,  that  if  the  ambiguous  teaching  Teay^s 
any  impresakm  at  all,  it  is  but  a  confused  kind  of  notion  that  it  is  quite  right  to 

♦  The  Rock.  May  31,  1&78,  p.  485,  coL  2, 
well  deserved  to  be  answered . 

t  Church  JUview,  187^.  p.  4t'3,  col.  1. 

No  reply  has  beea  given  to  this  letter,  which 


he  Clmrcliy  but  the  Dissenters  are  not  bucIi  bad  folk  after  aO,  and  timt  '  we  are 
^  aiming  for  the  same  place.'  " 

How  is  it  poBsible  to  raise  tlie  ciy  against  heresy  and  sclaism  when, 
the  first  place,  men  like  Dr.  Littledal©  can  speak  of  the  grave 
[divergences  which  exist  in  the  English  Church  on  the  most  important 

iths,  as  a  benefit,  nay,  almost  as  a  mark  of  the  tnie  Chnrch  ;*  and 
['when,  secondly,  they  plead  for  the  union  of  all  the  sects  wliich  believe  in 
I  Jesus  Qirist  and  in  the  Trinity  1 1  So  long  as  there  is  to  be  such  tolera- 
|tioa  of  difierences  on  fimdamental  points  as  the  Ritnalists  approve  of 

their  own  Church,  it  follows  inevitably  that  schism  and  heresy  must 
lot  be  so  much  as  named,  or,  if  they  are,  it  must  be  with  bated  breath 

_.*  Yery  mildly,"  as,  fur  example,  when  the  President  of  the  English 

lurch  Union  recently  said,  *'  If  in  such  matters  there  is  toleration  of 
Jerror  amongst  us,  the  only  excuse  that  can  be  made  for  it  is  the  hope 
rwe  entertain  that  such  toleration  may,  in  the  long  run,  win  back  to 

16  faith  those  who  reject  any  portion  of  it."J  In  the  same  tone  the 
\Ch0rch  RmeiCy  when  criticizing  Dr,  Littlcdale  s  article  on  "  The  Dog- 
ptnatie Position  of  the  Church  of  England,"  remarks; — 

•*  The  article  is  suggestive,  and  will  hod  the  thoughtful  reader  to  the  conaidera- 
[tion  of  many  subjects  which  do  Dot  lie  on  the  surface.  Having  said  this,  we  feel 
ffree  to  confess  that  we  rise  from  the  study  of  it  with  a  sense  of  imperfect  satis- 
ifaction.  We  are  tempted  to  suggest  that  a  better  title  for  it  would  have  been, 
r*  An  Apology  for  Diaumon  in  Teaching/  or,  to  use  the  author's  terminology,  for 
I  the  want  of  homogentotis  teaching  in  Uie  Church  of  England.  We  do  nut  say 
Itii&t  there  is  no  room  for  sncb  an  apolocy,  nor  that  it  cannot  be  saceessfolly  made, 
t|Mii  we  doubt  whether  it  can  be  so  com^etely  palliated,  and  even  shown  to  be  an 
fadvaniage,  as  the  reviewer  seems  to  think.  We  are  not  sure  that  the  line  which 
I  ultimately  leads  to  the  better  moral  result  is  not  that  which  frankly  confesses  the 
iipractical  uncertainty  of  teaching  amongst  us,  openly  deplores  it,  probes  its  latent 
I  immorality,  and  shows  how  it  is  a  departure  from  the  dogmatic  basis  laid  down, 
land  interpreted  by  the  quotation  fi-om  Bramhall  and  the  canon."  § 

The  changes  in  the  past  and  the  conflicting  opinione  existing  at 

[present   in  the  Anglican  Church    altogether  prechide  any   parallel 

t  between  the  Ritnalists  and  the  Orientals.     The  fixity  of  gronnd  among 

I  the  latter  may  help  to  mislead  them  as  to  their  true  position  ;  while, 

\  on  the  other  hand,  the  repudiation  of  so  many  doctrines  in  the  past, 

and  their  readmission  in  the  present,  onght  to  open  the  eyes  of  the 

Ritualists.     What,  indeed,  is  the  true  Church,  if  not  the  guardian  of 

the  trust  of  revelation  ?  and  %vliat  becomes  of  its  character  as  a  tme 

\  Church  when  it  has  scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven  the  treasure 

>mmitted  to  it  ?     It  ceases  to  be  the  Church. 

But  it  may  he  said.  If  the  Anglican  Church  has  lost  the  trust  of 
j  revelation  committed  to  it,  if  it  has  debased  Christian  worship  and  has 
[  allowed  discipline  to  grow  lax,  the  Ritualists  are  doing  their  utmost  to 

•  See  the  Churth  Qitaricrly  Beviev,  July,  1878. 
t  Ibid- :  **  Home  Eeonion/* 
J  Chnr€h  Times,  October  4,  1878.  |k  546,  col.  $. 
§  Church  Bevievc,  August  24.  1878,  p.  403,  coL  2. 



repair  all  these broaclies,  and  to  rebuild  the  ecclesiastical  edifice,  gather- 
ing together  all  the  Bcattered  stones.  Only  waitj  and  yon  will  igoon 
Bee  that  "Rorae  has  Uterally  nothing  to  offer  them  which  they  do  not 
possess,  or  are  on  the  point  of  aerLuiring  in  a  much  better  form.  Why 
then  should  you  urge  them  to  become  Eoman  Catholica  ?  They  are 
not  such  simpletons.''* 

I  do  not  question  that  the  Ritualists  have  made  and  are  daily  making 
progress  ;  that  they  arc  daily  recovering  more  and  more  Catholic 
beliefs  and  practices,  taking  as  the  rule  of  their  faith  the  celebrated 
maxim  of  St.  Yincent  d©  Lerins  :  Quod  iibujut\  quod  semper^  quod  ah 

On  the  pretext  that  every  Chiietian  ought  to  be  able  to  render  arfe,^ 
accoimt  of  his  faith j  some  Ritualists  go  so  far  as  to  imply  that  each 
individual  may  form  a  creed  of  his  owti,  by  interpieting  in  his  owa 
way  the  ^wd  ?^6i<^»/(r,  &c.,  and  by  pursuing  unaided  his  own  study  of] 
Chi-ifitian  antiquity  "  in  the  primitive  and  undivided  Church*'*  But  j 
what  becomes  then  of  the  Church,  and  of  its  mission  as  a  teacher  ?t/l 
Do  they  count  for  anything  or  notliiiig  ?  Theoretically  they  arej 
recognized,  but  practically  they  are  nil. 

The  principle  of  Catholicity,  or  the  maxim  Qiwd  uhique^  quod  smiper,  1 
&c.,  cannot  be  taken  in  an  absolute  sense,  and  luiless  it  is  so,  thero'  ] 
can  be  no  creed,  since  there  is  no  truth  which  has  not  been  contested, ' 
and  generally  ^videly  contested.  If  then  the  authority  of  the  Church 
is  suppressed,  there  is  no  means  of  knowing  whether  any  particular ! 
tnith  is  or  is  not  truly  Catholic,  even  in  the  sense  in  which  tlia  1 
Ritualists  understand  the  word  Catholic. 

And,  after  all,  is  the  Catholic  religion  ordy  a  thing  of  dogma  ?  Has  I 
it  not  also  authority  and  a  commission  ?  Is  it  enough  to  have  valid 
sacraments?  Is  it  not  necessary  also  that  they  should  be  lawfully 
administered,  that  is  to  say,  with  the  approbation  and  sanction  of  thaH 
Church  ?  But  if  a  conuniasion  is  necessary,  if  authority  is  required  for 
the  due  and  lawful  administration  of  the  sacmments,  if  the  authority  ] 
of  the  Clmrchj  in  short,  is  a  real  thing,  how  can  the  Ritualists  defendj 
their  position  ?  , 

Who  gave  Parker  bis  comraission  ?   Elizabeth.    Who  in  the  present 
day  gives  the  bishops  then*  jurisdiction  ?    The    Queen,  or  the  Prime 
Minister.     Is  such  a  commission  valid  ?J    Many  Ritualists  would  fine 
it    difficult   at  this   moment   to   acknowledge    the   sovereign   as  the] 
source  and  fountain  of  all  jurisdiction,  when  they  are  w^aging  war  to] 

•  Church  Times,  Aug^ist  9,  1S78,  t>,  447,  cola.  3,  4, 

t  Dr.  Littleiiale  hiia  endeavoured  t<o  provi?,  by  the  Comicil  of  Trent,  tlmt  "CftthoUdty 
of  doctrine  "  is  the  baais  of  **  CkriBt-ian  Bolidaritj."  Wliat  is  tKe  preciee  tneaniug  of  thj^g 
words  Chrifltian  Bolidimty,  as  nsed  by  Dr.  Littledtile,  I  do  not  profess  to  iinderatand.  i 
But  in  any  case,  it  aeeins  to  mc,  that  ho  is  wrong  in  going  Imek  to  the  Conncil  of  Trent 
to  establifih  hia  theories  against  the  unity  of  the  Cburch,  fgr  it  is  not  possible  to  cast  a 
shadow  of  a  doubt  on  the  part  which  the  Fathers  of  Tront  aaaigiiod  to  the  Pope.  Their 
words  ctmnot  then  bear  the  meaning  attaxihed  to  them  by  Dr*  Littledale, 

J  We  lee,  with  pleaaur©,  that  the  ^rave  question  of  a  valid  commiBsbn  is  be^finning  to 
be  Agitated  among  the  EitnaliBtB*     Bee  the  Church  Review,  June  8,  1878,  p,  269. 


the  death  agaiuet  the  Royal  Supremacy*  The  Rittialiets  cannot  carry 
with  them  in  their  restorations  and  innovatione  either  the  Eiighsli 
nation,  or  the  Anghcan  Episcopate,  or  the  majority  of  the  Anglican 
Chuj'ch,  They  are  playing  the  part  of  a  parliamentary  opposition^ 
with  no  assiu-ance,  as  yet,  of  attaining  to  power.  Nothing  that  they 
do  or  teach  comes  with  any  authority*  We  repeat,  therefore,  what 
re  have  already  said  elsewhere,  that  *'  nowhere  else  do  we  find  the 
pectacle  of  a  clergy  in  absohite  revolt  agamst  ita  supeiiorg.  We 
must  ask  the  meaning  of  their  loud  assertions  of  Catholic  principles, 
and  if  the  acceptance  of  certain  dogmas  and  practices  is  enough 
to  enable  us  to  attain  to  the  truth,  and  to  work  out  our  salvation. 
Questions  of  discipline,  of  hierarchic  of  mhmisshn  to  anlJioHti/j  hat^e  all  a 
place  in  the  creed ;  and  if  these  are  set  at  nought,  what  becomes  of  the 
principle  of  Cathohcity?  Ritualists  may  make  the  most  careful 
research  ^nathont  finding  at  any  time  or  in  any  age  a  position  resem- 
bling their  own.  If  belief  in  a  creed  is  all  that  is  necessary  for 
salvation,  the  most  degraded  savage  a/  Oceania,  and  the  rudest  colonist 
of  the  Far  West,  might  be  saved  without  the  aid  of  a  Church  or  of  a 
missionary:  he  need  onhf  glance  at  tJie  catechisnis  of  the  four  or  five  great 
Christian  Churches  of  the  icorld  !  '* 

I  would  ask  Ritualists  to  weigh  carefully  the  words  in  italics,  and  to 
determine  whether  there  is  truth  in  them.  From  a  study  of  their  past 
and  present  conduct,  we  might  be  led  to  tliiuk  that  they  reverse  the 
Catholic  adage  Nil  sine  episcoftOf  and  that  their  tenet  is  that  everything 
aust  be  done  either  without  or  against  the  bishops.  The  Archbishop 
rf  York  made  this  observation  at  the  Congress  at  Sheffield^  and  with 
but  too  much  reason. 

With  their  principle  of  Catliolicity,  the  Ritualists  then  may  set  up 
>niething  which  shall  bear  eomo  apparent  and  external  resemblance 
to  another  Episcopal  Church,  but  it  will  not  be  the  true  Church,  the 
Church  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  will  be  their  Church,  for  it  %vill  be  their 
workmanship,  not  God*s.  And  sooner  or  later  the  day  will  come 
when  they  will  see  clearly  that  it  is  but  an  invention  of  man,  if  indeed 
they  do  not  see  it  already. 

That  tlie  Ritualists  regard  tlieir  triumphs  past  and  present  as 
manifestAtione  of  Divine  grace,  I  do  not  for  a  moment  call  in  question. 
We  know  that  wherever  there  is  genuine  good  faith,  the  Spirit  of  God 
works  in  the  souls  of  men.  For  this  reason^  far  from  bewaiUog  the 
appearance  of  Ritualism,  I  mther  rejoice  in  it,  as  a  palpable  sign  of 
a^  '  '  n  towards  a  higher  order  of  life  than  the  **  earth  to  earth"  of 
N  I  »rmity  and  Evangelicalism.      I  feel,  indeed,  that  Ritualism  ia 

fraught  with  danger,  and  that  it  may  arrest  some  souls  who,  without 
its  intervention,  would  have  at  once  embraced  Catholicism ;  but  I 
hope  God  may  yet  be  pleased,  in  His  own  good  time,  to  transform  that 
which  ifl  at  present  a  hindrance  into  a  means  of  conversion. 

There  must  inevitably  come  a  time  when  the  illogical  and  inoon- 


sietent  attitude  adopted  by  the  Ritualiete  will  be  no  longer  tenable,  at 
least  by  ineu  of  intelligence  and  good  faith*  It  mil  be  Been  that  there 
miiBt  be  either  a  fui-ther  advance,  or  a  relapse  into  that  vague  Christi- 
anity without  any  defined  outUnea  which  conBtitutefi  the  creed  of  the 
majority  of  Protestant  Beets  at  the  present  day,  and  which  finds  its 
ideal  in  Congregationalism,  as  that  is  represented  in  the  Christian 
World,  It  is  possible  for  an  Orthodox  Greek  to  remain  where  he  is,  for 
he  has  a  clearly  defined  culius,  sometliiog  in  which  the  mind  and  the 
senses  may  find  satisfaction ;  but  the  Ritualist  cannot  remain  where 
he  is.  Ritualism  is  either  simply  a  return  to  the  past,  or  a  mere 
arbitmry  reaction  from  Anglicanism/which,  as  such,  can  have  nothinj 
peimanent  in  it.  It  is  not  we  alone  who  feel  this;  the  Ritualists | 
themselves  acknowledge  it: — 

*'  It  bas  been  frequeutlj  said  tliat  it  is  a  good  ihmg  for  the  Anglo-CatholioJ 
movement  that  it  has  had  no  recognized  leaders,  and  no  policy.     I  have  always  1 
doubted  the  tmth  of  that  aseertion  myself,  and  I  think  what  iB  now  going  qqJ 
amongst  ne  jastiiies  my  opinion  to  a  very  considerahle  degree.     We  now  fini| 
prieeta  who  ai-e  credited  with  being  very  'advanced  men  *  ind^,  openly  throwing^ 
themselves  into  the  arma  of  the  Essayists  and  Reviewers,  as  regards  the  doctrine 
of  eternal  punishment,  to  the  great  scandal  of  old-fashioned  Catholics  like  myself, 
as  well  as  of  Evangelical  Protestants.     I  had  thought  that  the  day  was  not  far  off 
when  the  Evangelicals,  seeing  the  indefensibility  of  their  own  position,  would  have 
added  what  is  wanting  to  theii*  faith,  and  made  common  cause  with  us  in  main- 
taining hMorical  Chruiianity  against  the  phantom  Christianity  of  the  Rationalista 
and  the  agnosticism  of  philosophera, falsely  so  called.    Bud  if  *  RifualUvi 'is  to  ht  a 
mere  eclectic 'ism,*  which  picks  and  chooseB  such  portions  of  Catholic  belief  and  ritual 
as  commtnd  themselves  to  itulividual  mnnherSf  we  must  hid  farewell  to  all  hope  of 
'Winning  over  our  Evangel ka!  friends,  and  we  mnst  be  prepared  to  see  them,  ai^  well 
as  large  numbers  of  so-called  Ritualists,  seeking  elsewhere  for  the  faith  once  for  all 


I  have  only  been  able  to  touch  slightly  on  the  great  question  of 
the  Cathohcity  of  the  Anghcan  Chnroh^  which  might  alone  occupy  an 
entire  article. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  points  in  Mr,  Gladstone's  paper^a  pouit 
on  which  Dr.  Littledale  has  also  cursorily  touched — is  his  discussion  of 
the  "  method  which  bends  submissively  to  all  historic  evidence;  which 
handles  that  e^^dence  in  the  domain  of  Church  history  on  the  same 
principles  as  in  any  other  domain,  and  which  has  for  its  aim  nothing 
else  than  this— to  come  at  the  clear  and  entire  truth,  without  fear  or 
favour/'t  Tliis  is  what  is  generally  called  the  appeal  to  hisiort/,  that 
** historic  Christianity"  treated  of  in  the  passage  already  quoted,  that 
recourse  to  experience  behind  which  the  Anglican  Church  shelters 
itself,  under  the  name  of  an  appeal  to  the  **  primitive  and  undivided 

Mr.  Gladstoae  and  many  AngHcans  distinguish  between  this  his- 
toric method  and  what  the  Catholics  call  tradition,  setting  the  one  in 
opposition  to  the  other.  In  their  view  traditiou  consists  chiefly  of 
facts  distorted  by  prejudice  and  passion,  or  coloured  by  preposses- 

*  Clur^^h  Eeview,  IS78*  p.  242,  eoL  2.        f  Contkmpobaxt  Rrtibw,  October,  p.  43! . 


wfaHe  liisiorj  ^  is  formed  apon  fcbcU  qIoh^  .  .  .  and  looks 
;  die  &ce  of  things  as  they  are  in  themselvefl^**  ^  That  Protestants, 
^  and  others  should  attach  supreme  importance  to  the  his- 
(teric  metiiod  is  eaeilj  conceivable,  since  thej  recognize  no  divine 
,  no  Church  with  a  divinely  sustained  existence  and  authority, 
»  Grille  indwelHng,  and  a  divine  infallibiUty.  It  is  a  matter  of  necee> 
that  they  ehoold  have  some  means  of  judging  of  Christianity ; 
ittnd,  haTiQg  rejected  the  divine  and  infallible  authority  of  the  Church, 
|4bey  are  fSua  to  have  recourse  to  their  own  reason,  and  consequently 
I  to  histoiy. 

For  a  Cathohc  it  is  otherwise.    Being  fully  convinced  of  the  divinity 

the  Churchy  of  its  divine  origin,  preservation,  and  operation*  he 

[finds  sa  its  authority  the  supreme  rule  of  his  judgment,  and  the  final 

papp^  on  all  dubious  points.      Not  indeed  that  the  Catholic  has 

Tecouise  to  the  Church  to  know  what  he  is  to  think  at  all  times  and 

on  all  subjects^  but  he  always  cherislies  this  mental  reservation,  Salto 

rjudicio — ^that  is  to  say,  in  all  cases  in  which  his  views  incur 

the  reprobation  of  the  Church,  the  Catholic  must  be  ready  to  submit, 

to  offer  any  explanation  that  may  bo  demanded,  and,  if  needful,  to 

["Tetract  his  own  opinions.     In  other  words  (for  it  is  importayt  to  l>e 

Terr  clear  in  a  matter  on  which  prejudice  is  so  strong),  the  supreme 

rule  for  the  judgment   of  the  Catholic  is  not  his  own   historical 

atudies,  aided  or  unaided  by  other  men,  but  the  authority  of  the 


Ail  is  coherent  and  coneecutive  in  the  Catholic  system.    The  divnne 

origin  of  the  Church,  its  infallibility,  and  as  a  consequence  the  sub- 

jnifision  of  its  children  in  the  last  resort  to  its  authority,  whether  it 

instructfi,   commands,   or   condemns^ — this  is  in  substance  what  we 

I -Catholics  often  describe  by  the  name  of  tradition,  especially  when  we 

l,^eak  of  it  in  connection  with  Holy  Scripture, 

It  is  of  course  open  to  an}'  to  dispute  the  bases  of  such  a  system, 
but  the  system  itself  cannot  be  charged  with  want  of  logical  coher- 
l^ence.    The  premises  being  granted,  the  consequences  follow  in  rigid 

This  is  not  the  place  in  wliich  to  offer  a  complete  apology  for  the 
CathoUc  system ;  but  since  this  paper  is  devoted  specially  to  explana- 
tions frankly  and  fairly  given »  I  may  be  allowed  a  word  in  ita  defence. 
When  we  as  Catholics  appeal  to  the  judgment  and  authority  of  the 
-  Church,  is  it  supposed  that  we  reject  history,  archaeology,  patrology, 
and  all  other  sciences  ?  Not  in  the  least.  We  simply  gubordinato  all 
these  to  the  authority  of  the  Church.  As  formerly  it  was  naid  of 
*  science  that  it  was  ancilla  tlieologiw,  so  we  say  now  that  it  is  ancillu 
ecclesuB ;  and  since  science  and  the  Church  both  proceed  from  God, 
we  do  not  allow  that  there  can  be  any  rml  contradiction  bet  we  on 
them.    But  there  may  be  apparent  contradiction,  and  when  this  is  the 

•  CONTEMPOEAltT  EkVIKW,  OctobCT,  p.  431* 



case,  we  surrender  the  always  fallible  teachmg  of  history  to  adhere  to 
the  teaching  of  the  Church,  which  ia  mfalhble. 

A  Catholic  who,  instead  of  siibmittiDg  to  the  judgment  of  the 
Church  (which  he  confesses  to  be  divine),  fehould  adhere  to  the  testi- 
mony of  history  when  it  appeai-fl  to  contradict  the  Church,  and  who 
should  do  this  dehberately  and  knowingly,  wtmld  cease  to  belong  to 
that  Church.  He  would  be  no  longer  a  Catholic,  for  he  would  be 
gniUy,  not  merely  of  treason  and  heresy,  but  of  apostasy.* 

It  was  in  this  sense,  no  doubt,  that  Cardinal  Manning  used  the  two 
words  which  are  often   quoted  against  him  in  Protestant  journals* 
Exception  should  be  taken  (if  at  all)  not  to  the  expressions  used  h 
his  Eminence,  but  to  the  very  foundations  of  the  Cathohc  syetera, 
namely,  to  the  di^'ine  oiigin  and  infallible  authority  of  the  Chmxh. 

Two  reasons  may  be  briefly  given  why  Catholics,  while  they  do  not 
neglect  tlie  careful  study  of  history,  yet  defer  ultimately  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  Church. 

The  first  is  that  it  is  only  by  means  of  a  teaching  body  invested 
with  authority  that  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  can  l:>e  brought  within 
the  grasp  of  men  at  large,  even  the  most  ignorant. 

The  second  is  that  all  science,  and  pre-eminently  the  science  of 
history,  is  Uable  to  mistake.  Mr.  Gladstone  seems  to  think  that  history 
is  above  passions  and  prejudices.  Would  that  it  were  so,  and  that 
men,  divided  on  all  other  subjecte,  could  at  least  meet  on  this  common 
ground  1  But,  alas  !  this  is  far  from  being  the  case,  and  it  needs  no 
long  reflection  to  show  that  if  there  is  a  ecience  on  which  the  influences 
of  education  and  national  and  party  prejudice  may  make  themselves 
felt,  it  is  assuredly  the  science  of  history.  The  readers  of  this  Review 
have  had  quite  recently  more  than  one  illustration  of  this  before  their 
eyes,  and  it  is  scarcely  needful  to  ask  whether  Mr.  Froude  and  Mr.  Free- 
man would  give  the  same  version  of  the  history,  say  of  St,  Thomas  k 

What,  then,  is  the  value  of  these  appeals  to  history  1  What  weight 
can  they  have  with  ninety-nine  hundredths  of  the  human  race  \  Is 
it  actually  possible  to  write  or  to  read  history  without  prejudice? 
Where  is  the  ordioary  reader  who  can  to-day  reconstmct  the  true 
history  of  the  sixteenth  century  ?  Mr.  Maitland,  Dr,  Littledale, 
Mr,  Bluut,  and  a  hundred  others,  have  already  told  us  what  we  must 
think  of  the  history  of  the  period  written  by  such  men  as  Foxe  and 
Burnet,  We  need  not  perhaps  do  more  than  just  remind  Mr.  Gladstone 
and  Dr.  Littledale  of  the  vigorous  language  in  wliich  the  latter  has 
characterized  the  Eeformei's,  Thank  God,  the  age  is  advancing,  and 
to-day  the  heirs  of  the  English  Refonnation  are  beginnhig  to  recognize 
that  even  in  relation  to  the  facts  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Roman 

•  It  cau  I  e  sciireely  needful,  wo  imagme>  to  obaervo  that  in  controversy  with  non- 
Cfttholics^  the  Catholies  accept  the  a|  peal  to  history,  and  do  not  invo^ke  the  testimotty  of 
the  Church. 



Catholic  writers  are  more  worthy  of  confidence  than  the  Puritan  or 
^rotestant  hiatoriaiis.     Men  s  views  are  gradually  veering  round,  and 

atice  18  being  done  at  last  to  men  and  tlimge.  If  any  authors  might 
>e  excused  for  waiting  with  pagsioii,  they  would  be   the   Eoglieh 

iitholica  of  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century.  As  a  rule, 
aowever,  they  have  not  done  so,  but  have  treated  their  persecutors 
fwith  remarkable  moderation.    Attention  was  drawn  to  this  fact,  a 

lort  time  ago,  in  one  of  the  RituaHst  journals.  Speaking  of  the 
lecords  of  the  English  Province  of  the  Society  of  Jesus,  the  Church 

evieic  says : — 

•'There  are  jninor  mattera  scattered  up  and  down  amidst  the  story  of  hnir- 

hreadth  escapes,  toilTirea,  tjx^cutions,  ministrations,  and  religious  conaolations^ 

fjt^d  of  conviersion,  when  conversion  meant  at  the  least  confiscation  of  ^xxls  and 

jttpriaonment.    The  Manan  persecutions  had  their  counterpart  in  the  Elizabethan ; 

?ox)ds  *  Book  of  Martjrs  *  tells  nothijw' ol  the  one  that  ia  not  surpassed  by  these 

.^records  of  the  other — icUh  this  great  differejioe,  however,  between  them^  Umt  the  viru- 

plml  defamation  mid  scurrilom  abu^e  of  the  Gn«  never  appears  in  the  other.    Contrast* 

^9T  example,  the  mention  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  the  freedom  of  intimate  letters 

Qch  as  those  of  F»  Rivers,  from  which  we  have  qmoted,  and  their  '  thanks  he  to 

'God  *  for  her  Majesty's  gtw^d  healtb  imd  frolicsome  humour,  with  the  terms  in 

wlkich  Foxe  speaks  of  Queen  Mary*  and  which  indeed  have  been  followed  down  to 

onr  own  days  and  latest  writena.    Hallam,  whose  accuracy  no  one  questions,  and 

t-who  was  calm  and  even  cold,  as  well  as  accurate,  tells  us  that  *  iiiti4enince  and 

tion  was  the  original  sin  in  which  the  Reformed  Churches  were  cradled,' 

\he  mi^hi  have  added  evU  ^eaking^  lying ,  and  slandering^  which  nourished  told 

ij^eraied  that  intolerance  and  pcrsccntion.     The  worth  of  this  volume  of  records 

PSfi  that  they  are  genuine,  made  at  the  time,  not  for  the  purpose  of  proving  any- 

^. thing,  simply  *  records '  of  what  happened."* 

Mr,  Gladstone  tells  us  that  the  great  Protest-sut  tradition  is  extinct. 

leTertheless  he  himself  applies  else  where  the  title  of  "  Bloody  "  to 
[Queen  Jlary,  in  contrast,  no  doubt,  to  the  leniency  shown  hy  Elizabeth 
[and  her  father  towards  the  Catholics.  Happily  Dr.  Littledale  is  not 
[afi^d  to  correct  this  testimony  by  assming  ns  that  Sir  Thomas  More, 
TCardinal  Fisher,  Bishop  Gardiner,  Queen  Mary,  and  Cardinal  Pole, 
[i^hatever  their  errors  and  sins  may  have  been,  were  angels  of  Hght 
'compared  with  the  Protector  Seymour,  with  Bishop  Cranmer,  Bishop 

Poynet,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  Bishop  Bale.f 

The  great  Protestant  ti^dition  is  not  dead  in  the  heart  of  the  com- 
fmon  people  of  England,  and  if  in  the  minds  of  lettered  and  cultivated 
Tmen  it  is  less  bitter  than  among  the  populace,  it  still  lives  on  with 

much  of  its  old  intensity.  We  note  more  than  one  trace  of  this  in 
f'BIr.  Gladstone's  **  Stndy  of  the  Reformation  "  and  in  Dr,  Littledale'e 
]  article. 

It  is  because  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  **  well-nigh  impossible  for 
'  ordinary  readers  to  get  at  the  facts "{   that  I  have  pointed  out,  as 

one  of  the  great  hindrances  to  the  progress  of  Rituahsm  towards 

CathoUcism,  the  manner  in  which  many  EngUslimcn  take  up  the  study 
^of  religion.     I  have  dwelt  especially  on  the  dangers  of  the  historic 

•  Church  Review,  1878,  p.  86,  coL  3  ;  p.  87,  coh  1, 
t  Littledale  :  On  the  Eeformera,  p.  6.  J  Ibid.^  p.  20, 


method,  8o  strongly  recommended  by  SIi*.  Gladstone, — a  method 
whichj  to  quote  only  one  example  iii  paseing,  leads  him  to  represent  I 
Cranmer  as  dying  '*  on  the  heights  of  heroism,''  while  Dr*  Littledale 
assigns  to  him  the  coward's  death/  So  fraught  with  peril  and  with 
paradox  is  this  long  and  arduous  method,  which  to  be  pursued  aright 
demands  an  elevation  of  character-,  an  uprightness  of  vd\\  a  purity  of 
intention,  together  with  a  power  of  work  such  tas  are  rarely  to  be  found ; 
nor  is  all  this  enough  unless  the  circumatancefl  of  time  and  place  are^ 
also  favourable-  How  can  a  man  who  breathes  an  atmosphere  charged 
TOth  prejudices  against  Catholicism,  and  who  has  within  his  reach 
only  documents  conceived  and  framed  with  an  anti-Catholic  bias, 
attain  to  a  just  perception  of  things  as  they  are?  Humanly  speaking 
it  is  not  possible.  Hence,  as  I  said  in  ray  first  article,  "  there  is  not  a 
single  fact  or  institiition  of  Catholicism  in  connection  with  which  there^ 
has  not  accumulated  a  mass  of  prejudice  and  error,  ,  ,  ,  Take, 
for  example,  the  history  of  the  Inquisition^  of  St-  Bartholomew,  of  the 
False  Decretals/'  &c.t  I  quoted  these  as  examples  that  would  require 
volumes  for  their  fair  and  adequate  discussion,  I  abstained  from 
expressing  any  opinion  of  my  own,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I 
have  not  studied  all  these  subjects  sufficiently  thoroughly  to  express 
an  independent  opinion.  What  I  meant  to  say  was  that  on  all  these 
points  there  is  a  great  divergence  of  view,  and  this  statement  is  fully 
borne  out  by  the  two  papers  of  Mr.  Gladstone  and  Dr.  Littledale. 
Both  agree,  however,  in  condenining  the  Papacy  for  tbe  rejoicings  in 
Rome  and  for  the  medals  struck  on  the  occasion  of  the  St,  Bartholo- 
mew Massacre.t  I  cannot  attempt  to  enter  here  into  a  discussion  of 
these  facts.  I  can  simply  make  a  few  brief  observations.  It  is  not 
my  business  to  explain  or  to  excuse  the  massacre  of  the  Protestants. 
Dr,  Littledale  has  said :  *'  Few  know  that  the  atrocities  which  the  Pro- 
testants themselves  ten  years  before  had  committed  at  Beaugency, 
Jlontauban,  Niemes,  Montpelher,  Grenoble,  and  Lyons,  equalled^  if  thef/ 
did  not  ex'ceed^  that  tef^Hlk  crim^."§  I  might  add  to  this  that  the 
provinces  of  the  west  and  south  of  France  are  still  covered  l\^th  ruins 
which  date,  not  from  ten  years  before  St.  Bartholomew,  but  from  the 
year  1568,  The  Huguenots  were  not  only  men  who  fought  for  liberty 
of  conscience ;  they  were  the  Communists  of  the  age,  rebels  who  laid 
Tvaste  provinces,  and,  by  their  fiequent  plottings  with  the  foreigner, 
kept  the  State  in  perpetual  danger.  They  were  public  enemies. 
That  it  was  justifiable  on  this  account  to  kill  them  hke  dogs,  shoot 
them  down  from  behind  hedges^  as  if  they  were  wolves,  be  it  far  from 
me  to  maintain.  But  I  repeat  it:  the  question  is  not,  Was  the 
Massacre  of  St,  Bartholomew  right?  but,  Did  the  Pope  order  re- 
joicings over  the  event  ^w  a  massaerej  and  did  he  have  medals  struck 

•  Littliidide  :  On  tlieBt^formers,  pp,  15,  16>  and  4^;  No,  29  of  the  not^  "  On  Cranmer." 
t  CoNTEMPoHAJSY  Eeview,  Augiietj  p*  Its, 
J  Ibid.j  Octoler,  p-  4£9  j  Kovember,  p*  7l)5t 
5  LittJcdale  :  On  tlie  Keformera,  p.  19. 


of  •»  igpoMt  a  Weic 
A  the  Ifn— rffi  ef  SLl 
ItoCSRSoixXIlL    It  g  eyjJr^  till  tf  tJw?  St.  Bm^tiljiiw 
I  of  ovder  oTor  JBm 

to  Pope  Gf^govT^refe  a»  natural  «»6m  ooik 
to*  sovtet^^  or  lo  a  wilmi  oa  ^bm  micmfft 
Hmt,  hirtoram  idl  as  «hil  tko  art^iti  vtK 
to  dbr  P^pe,  aad  tlio  otatenml  k  TmS^I  br  tlw  BmsI 
when  Greeoi^r  bceufta  hotter  aoqauat^  wjlli  w1m4 
ilpasBl  bo  dknpprored  of  tiio  ^  BavtholMaow. 
It  m  oimmdhr  anpooriUo  for  m^  to  oalor  hoio  ialo  a  fuU  ^Kscanoa 
or  oaa  I  hope  loadit;^  to  shako  the  roolod  opiaion 
the  point.  Bat  tiio  dnrergoaco  of  oMtittmit^  aol 
'  betai'tiu  Oidiolios  and  Prot^eiants,  but  between  writers  of  the 
>  bodj,  it  mlicMit  proof  of  the  fatStf  of  the  appeal  to  hnftoiy 
ta  final  taal  of  tm^  Theto  is  not  a  amgle  fact  at  all  m^olTad  in 
about  which  any  two  writers  are  perfectly  agTXM^(},  ualiKt 
have  copied  from  each  other. 
I  mentioned  abo  the  False  Decretals.  Dr.  Ltttledal^  relbmag 
to  thk  subject  sajrs,  "  The  Papal  claims  Kairt  a&M^Wy  no  ^iktr  Um» 
This  is  a  very  serious  assertion ;  for  the  Popes  exoroised 
aatfaority  and  enjoyed  the  priviloges  of  the  Pai^cy  long  before 
the  Fake  Decretals  were  put  in  circulation ;  and  these  FaW 
thcoosdres  wonld  not  hare  been  accepted  if  they  had 
lot  been  in  harmony  with  the  ideas  commonly  reoeiTed  at  the 
time  of  their  appearance.  We  are  reduced,  then,  to  one  of  two 
either  the  Decretals  ran  counter  to  the  ideas  and 
tiees  of  the  age,  or  they  were  in  perfect  hnnnony  with  them. 
If  the  first  hypothesiB  be  the  true  one,  how  wns  it  that,  among  *io 
|jiiany  persons  whose  intere&t  it  was  to  protest  not  one  lifted  up  hi« 
roice  to  denounce  the  imposture  and  the  umirpation  t  Were  the  men 
of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries  not  men  of  like  pamons  with  oui^ 
selves  T  Had  they  not  the  eame  independence,  the  same  love  of 
liberty?     Why,  again  I  ask,  did  no  one  protest t 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  second  hypothesis  be  true,  then  the  oom- 
parison  which  Dr.  Littledale  institutes  l>etween  tho  Pn|inry  Jind  u 
proprietor  in  possession  of  an  estate  gained  by  a  false  titli%  altticrotltfr 
Us.     It  was  notj  Decretals  in  hand,  that  the  Popes  took  )  ii 

af  the  government  of  the  Catholic  world :  it  was  beeanso  \\\v  i'opos 
rere  already  the  rulers  of  the  CathuHe  world  thai  tl^e  Decretals  were 
at  once  accepted,  without  a  too  close  inquiry  into  their  origin  and 
titles.  The  fact  that  the  Popes,  or  the  lawyerw  whu  adited  the  eaiioTi 
law,  accepted  them  as  a  fitting  embodiment  of  their  ideaK,  KmhIh 
them   a  value  which  intrinsically  they  did  not  possess  ;   jiiflt  us  n 

*'  CoNTBMPOEART  Bkvxkw,  NovcuibeT,  p.  W. 



false  title  becomeB  valid  and  genuine  if  the  seller  and  the  buyer  consent 
to  subscribe  their  names  to  it. 

My  two  honourable  opponents  lay  etrese  on  the  social  supenoiity  of 
England,  a-s  compared  witli  the  natioim  of  the  Continent,  especially 
France,  Italy,  and  Spain,  Mr,  Gladstone,  in  particular,  has  given 
great  prominence  to  this  fact ;  but  the  same  tone  runs  through  all 
the  pages  of  Dr.  Littledale's  paper,  and  becomes  very  marked  towards 
its  close.  This  superiority  is  shown,  first,  by  the  little  influence  which 
the  Paganism  of  the  Renaissance  has  exerted  upon  English  society 
and  literature,  while  it  has  struck  to  the  core  of  both  Italy  and 
France,  Second,  by  the  hold  which  Chiistianity  ha«  retained,  till  our 
own  times,  on  the  upper  and  middle  classes  of  EngUsh  society  ;  while 
elsewhere,  in  France  and  Italy  for  example,  these  classes  are  either 
indiflerent  or  positively  hostile  to  the  Church*  Third,  by  the  ease 
with  ^vhich  the  ranks  of  the  ministry  are  recruited,  the  classes  from 
which  the  clergy  are  drawn,  the  measure  of  education  which  they 
receive  and  retain,  the  position  which  they  occupy  in  society,  and 
the  part  asBigned  to  them  in  public  life. 

It  w^oiild  be  easy  to  enumerate  other  e\adences  of  this  social  superi- 
ority of  England  to  the  Catholic  nations  of  the  Continent,  but  the 
three  points  already  named  seem  to  sufEce  for  the  puipose. 

I  would  observe,  first,  that  the  order  of  things  indicated  by  these 
words,  *' superiority"  and  *' social  superiority,"  is  a  very  comprehensive 
one,  and  that  it  is  not  easy  to  say  always  to  what  cause  they  are  to 
be  assigned,  or  to  distinguish,  among  many  co-operating  causes,  that 
which  has  the  largest  share, 

I  am  perhaps  more  disposed  than  many  to  recognize  the  relative 
social  superiority  of  England,  but  I  am  not  convinced  that  Protestant- 
ism, the  Reformation,  and  Anglicanism  are  the  principal  causes  of  this 
superiority;  and  even  if  these  Bystems  could  vindicate  their  claim  to 
the  character  assigned  to  them,  I  should  not  be  prepared  to  allow 
that  therefore  they  were  Divine, 

England  occupies  a  position  unique  in  the  world.  A  girdle  of  seas 
encircles  her,  and  isolates  her  from  all  other  nations;  her  cold  and 
severe  climate,  while  it  repels  strangers,  accustoms  her  children  to 
lead  that  manly,  austere  lile,  full  of  activity  and  energy,  which  pre- 
pares them  so  well  to  play  their  noble  part  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
To  tluB  isolation,  combined  ivith  the  consciousness  of  power  character- 
istic of  the  English  nation,  is  to  be  traced  that  British  pride  which  has 
preserved,  and  will  yet  long  preserve,  England  from  the  false  doc- 
trines and  ctimipt  practices  of  the  Continent.  The  English  people  is 
an  **  imperial  people;'*  it  knows  and  feels  its  own  worth,  and  its 
lawful  self-esteem  is  perhaps  not  unmixed  with  a  tinge  of  contempt 



^r  others*    A  study  of  the  English  character  recalls  mvolimtarily  the 
loble  lines  of  the  poet— 

-*  Tn  TegdJr«  imp^rio  populos,  Boman^j  metoento ; 
H©  tibi  enint  artesi  paciBqiw  imponere  mor«m, 
P&roere  stibjectis,  et  debollare  auperboe.*'* 

The  English  oation,  moreover,  is  a  nation  relatively  young  as  com- 
ared  with  the  French  and  Italians.  These  have  passed  tlirough 
ly  stages  in  Ufe ;  they  are  on  the  verge  of  old  age,  some  say  of 
lecrepitiide  and  decline.  France  and  Italy  liav©  been  trampled  for 
centuries  by  the  feet  of  the  stranger,  who  left  to  them  his  vices  while 
le  borrowed  not  always  from  their  \'irtue8.  They  are  open  conntriea^ 
accessible  to  all  invasions  of  new  ideas,  and  suffering  at  least  by  re- 
action from  all  the  poUtical  convulsions  of  their  neighbour.  No  com- 
parison can  be  instituted  therefore  between  them  and  the  English 

But  to  pass  from  such  general  consideratious  to  the  three  point*? 

>rought  forward  by  Mr.  Gladstone  and  Dr.  Littledale.     Even  if  it  be 

a  fact  that  Paganism  has  east  its  roots  so  deep  and  wide,  as  they 

assert,  in  France  and  Italy,  this  would  argue  nothing  in  favour  of  the 

[Reformation,   unless  it   can   be   show^i   (and  this  has  not  yet  been 

^attempted)  that  it  was  the  Reformation  which  repelled  from  England 

rthe  invasion  of  Paganism,     The  countries  into  which  the  Renaissance 

\  introduced  most  largely  the  languages  of  Paganism  are  first  Italy, 

and  next  France ;  and  this  is  explained  perfectly  naturally  by  the 

,  ancient,  prolonged,  and  frequent  relations  of  the  Italians  and  the 

[French  with  Eastern  countries.     At  the  time  when  tlie  treasures  of 

^Greek  and  Pagan  antiquity  were  introduced  into  the  West  first  by 

.  the  decadence  and  then  by  the  faU  of  the  Greek  Empire^  when  the 

great  families  were  driven  by  the  approach  of  the  Turk  into  Italy,— 

at  this  time,  I 


there  was  a  sort  of  infatuation  abroad  about  the 

^'antique.    People  raved  about  the  ancients,  and  emulated  their  speech. 
fThe   admiration  of  them   passed   all    bounds,   but   the   people   etilt 

remained  Christian,  while  borrowing  the  language  of  the  Pagan.  It 
^was  pre-eminently  a  Uterary  Paganism,  and  there  are  generations  of 
'  men  still  li>4ng  who  have  watched  it  pass  away. 

The  same  causes  have  produced  the  same  effects  from  another  point 
^of  view,  England  has  been  and  will  be  slower  than  the  nations  of 
Jthe  Continent  in  becoming  un-Christianized,  There  may  still  be  persons 
rho,  scarcely  knowing  what  Christianity  is,  yet  glory  in  being 
f Christians.  But  Protestantism  cannot  claim  the  credit  of  this.  The 
*  majority  of  the  nation  was  still  CathoHc  in  behef  and  practice,  long 
'  after  the  Reformation.     Some  writers  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  at  the 

death  of  Henry  VIIL,  eleven-twelfths  of  the  English  people — obviously 
'not  of  the  nobility— were  Catholics  in  heart  and  conviction.     What 

wonder   is  it,  then,  if  the  higher  classes  have   retained  a  certain 

•  Virgil,  Mn,  vi.  S62— 854. 
H  2 




Cliiistianity  coiTeBpoiiding  closely  in  character  vA\\\  what  is  called 
Evangelicalism?  Here  also,  however,  the  current  ideas  of  the  age  are 
spreading,  and  there  is  eveiy  probability  that  in  thirty  years  from  tins 
time,  the  religion  of  the  upper  classes  will  have  greatly  changed  its 

If  Catholicism  is  at  the  present  moment  somewhat  foraaken  by  the 
middle  class  and  by  the  men  generally,  it  must  be  admitted,  fii^t,  that 
it  is  making  progress,  and  next  that  it  retains  its  hold  at  kast  on  the 
poorer  classes,  the  common  people.  This  Protestants  themselves 
admit.  Let  any  one  enter,  on  any  Sunday,  a  church  in  the  poor 
quarters  of  Paris,  and  he  will  see  there  more  working  people,  men  and 
women,  than  in  all  the  chm-ches  of  London  put  together,  those  of  the 
Ritualists  perhaps  excepted.     As  the  Church  Review  lately  said : — 

''  Sacrament  Sundaj  has  lost  us  *  the  common  people/  This  is  a  phenomenon 
unique  in  religious  history,  including  under  that  phrase  the  history  of  false 
religions  as  well  as  true,  of  Paganism  n&  well  as  Chiistianity.  No  one  was  ever 
80  independent  of  the  forms  and  obacrvancos  of  his  national  faitli^  being  at  the 
same  time  not  a  professed  infidel,  as  the  ordinary  uneducated  Englishman.  We 
do  not  speak  of  a  failure  to  produce  the  highest  results,  but  of  a  fiulure  to  produce 
any  tie,  to  exact  any  adherence,  to  make  religion  a  familiar  thing  in  its  external 
observances,  as  a  necessai'j  aspect  of  life,  orsn  outward  siirrounding  and  profession. 
The  anomaly  is  not  merely  that  piety  langTiislies,  that  Christian  virtues  decay, 
that  the  flesh  is  too  strong  for  the  lower  classes^  just  as  the  world  and  the  devil  are 
too  strong  for  the  higher,  but  that  for  the  lower  classes  the  Church  and  her  system 
should  be  remote  and  "unrecognisted  objects,  taken  for  granted  by  them  as  not 
being  for  them,  and  in  which  they  recognize  no  elaima  and  no  beauties  that 
answer  to  something  in  their  individual  mental  histoi^y.'** 

It  then,  we  may  accept  as  any  ''  test*'  of  the  divinity  or  supeiionty 
of  a  system  the  social  class  upon  which  it  takes  most  hold,  it  seems  to 
us  that  Catholicism  must  have  more  of  the  divine  in  it  than  Angli- 
canism ;  for  Jesus  never  said,  Divilihm^  but  He  did  say,  Pauperihm 
evangelUare  mml  me  (Luke  iv.  18).  St.  Paul  himself  observed,  in  Mb 
day,  that  not  many  rich  or  great  ones  were  seen  among  the  Christians : 
Non  mulii  potenies,  7wn  multi  nobiles  (1  Cor.  i*  26),  I  may  even  go 
fm-thor,  and  say  that  if  there  is  one  system  which  suits  the  rich,  but  is 
ill  adapted  for  the  poor,— and  this  was  true  of  Anglicanism  before  the 
rise  of  the  Ritualists, — there  is  some  reason  to  think  that  such  a  system 
is  not  80  much  thvine  as  "  worldly  and  devilish/' 

And  why?    Because  the  higher  classes  of  society  are  something  hke 
the  Governments  which  they  form  and  lead ;  they  do  not  hke  a  popular 
^L  religioUj   one  that   preaches   self-denial,    sacrifice,   devotcdne^s,   and 

^H  equahty.     They  want  a  rehgion  of  silk  and  velvet,  in  wliich  dogmas 

^H  occupy  but  small  space,  and  irksome  duties  still  less,  which  amounts, 

^m  in  fact,  simply  to  a  moral  anodyne,  colourless  and  vague,  a  feeble, 

^■^  philanthropic  philter. 

^H  The  higher  classes  of  society,  and  the  middle  classes,  those  who  are 

^m  described  in  England  as  **  well-to-do  people/'  have  but  Uttle  sympathy 

•  Church  R^new,  1878.  p,  467.     S€»e  also  p.  39B,  cola.  1,  2- 


with  clericalism  and  sacerdotalism.     The  Ritiialiate  Lave  been  made 

feel  this.     They  are  hated  and  persecuted  because  they  make  some 

jretensions  to  the  priestly  and  clerical  character.     Now  Evangelicals, 

*Broad  ChurchmeQ,  Dissenters,  and  men  of  the  world  do  not  like  clerics 

or  clericalism.    And  yet,  strange  to  say,  it  is  since  Ritualism  has 

jreetored  clerical  or  sacerdotal  customs  and  claims,  since  the  Anglican 

[clergy  has  returned  to  the  Mass,  to  the  use  of  retreats,  v£c, ;  since  it 

begun  to  lead  a  more  earnest,  retired,  and  austere  hfe,  that  it  has 

Jtegained  to  some  cxtout  its  hold  upon  the  masses  of  the  people.     It 

rill,  at  least,  be  admitted,  that  there  is  a  strange  coincidence  between 

leee  two  facts,  if  the  one  may  not  be  allowed  to  be  the  cause  of  the 


When  we  consider  the  situation  of  the  world  in  which  we  live,  the 

variotis  aspirations  by  which  it  is  stirred,  we  cannot  fail  to  recognize 

the  same  conflict  of  principles  winch  has  left  its  mark  on  the  ages 

'past*     In  truth,  we  are  taking  onr  part  to-day  in  one  more  struggle 

between   the  priestly  and  the  imperial  power,  with  this  difference, 

however,  that  the  empire  is  not  represented  eiraply  by  an  individual, 

'but  by  the  mulritude.     It  is  a  new  phase  of  a  conflict  which  is  as  old 

as  Christianity  itself,   the   conflict  between   the  natural  and  super- 

natural,  between  earth,  as  represented  by  the  laity,  and  heaven  by  the 

■priesthood.     Upon  the  Continent  the  battle  has  long  been  waging ;  in 

England  the  clerical  pretensions  of  the  Ritualists  have  first  awakened 

,the  clash  of  arms. 

Bat  why,  I  ask  next,  does  the  Anglican  clergy  represent  a  higher 
social  class  than  the  Catholic  clergy  in  France  ?  The  condition  of 
>ciety  in  the  two  countries  offci-s  sufficient  explanation  \  and,  moro- 
fover,  the  same  proportions  beiog  kept,  the  Catholic  clergj*  of  France 
does  occupy  a  position  as  elevated  in  relation  to  the  population  aroxmd, 
Las  does  the  Anglican  clergy  iu  relation  to  the  English  people.  French 
society  is  on  the  descending  scale;  imder  the  present  testamentary 
law  in  France  it  is  impossible  for  famiUes  to  maintain  their  position 
ipaired  for  more  than  three  generations.  And  vdih  the  great 
;  perish  the  traditions  which  fonn  the  strength  of  the  country. 
When  whole  classes  are  thus  sinking  to  a  lower  social  grade,  the  indi- 
|Yidual  is  carried  along  with  them. 

The  priesthood  in  France  has  Httle  to  expect  but  self-sacrifice ;  it 
lot  therefore  be  deemed  strange  that  those  who  embrace  that 
ailing  in  the  age  of  fervour  and  of  illn^ions,  should  eometinies  look 
>ack  regi-elfully  and  falter,  or  even  desert,  finding  the  burden  too 
leavy  to  be  borne.  This  is  the  explanation  of  the  defections  of  which 
Dr.  Littledale  speaks,  and  for  which  he  reproaches  the  Catholic  clergy 
of  France,  with,  as  I  think,  undue  severity.  God  forbid  that  we 
iiould  make  heroes  or  models  of  the?5e  deserter?.  But  let  us  not,  on 
the  other  hand,  be  without  bowels  and  mercies. 

Dr.  Littledale  dwells   upon  the   hterary  culture  of  the  Anghcan 



clergy*  to  which  I  also  pay  full  and  willing  homage  ;  but  he 
reproachea  the  clergy  of  France  with  falHng  behind  in  this  respect. 
Is  this  juBt  ?  Ib  it  possible  that  a  clergy,  deepoiled  as  the  French 
clergj^  lias  been,  withotit  leisure  and  without  means,  paid  on  an  average 
at  the  rate  of  £50  per  annum/  should  devote  itself  like  the  clergy 
of  England  to  letters  and  the  sciences?  Surely  this  is  asking  the 
impossible.  We  must  be  fair  to  all,  and  judge  of  men  by  wliat  it 
is  possible  for  them  to  do  in  the  circumstances  in  which  their  lot 
is  cast. 

To  me  it  seems  rather  matter  for  sui-pi-is©  that  the  clergy  of  France 
attains  such  a  degree  of  culture  as  is  generally  to  be  found  among  its 
members ;  and  in  any  case,  one  thing  is  certain,  that  they  are  far  better 
instructed  in  the  proper  duties  of  their  professicm  than  other  clergj'more 
favoured  of  fortune.  And  it  is,  after  all,  by  the  knowledge  and  the  vir- 
tues of  their  profession  that  the  tnie  work  of  the  clergy  is  done.  This  Dr. 
Litdedale  has  admitted  and  owned,  as  has  many  a  Kitualist :  "Talking^ 
and  writing,  and  arguing  against  atheism  is  not  much  use.  Never 
was  more  of  these  things  done  than  in  England  a  hundred  years  ago, 
when  the  Church  was  all  but  dead.  Praying  and  working  are  the 
true  weapons/'t 

Jlr.  Gladstone  and  Dr.  Littledale  think  it  strange  that  the  Catholic 
clergj^  should  live  so  isolated  as  they  do  from  the  world.  They  would 
have  them  enter  more  generally  into  the  cun-ent  of  social  life,  and 
take  a  greater  part  in  public  aflairs. 

It  is  indeed  to  be  desired  that  the  influence  of  the  clergy  should  be 
more  felt  in  secular  hfe.  And  at  one  time,  when  Europe  was  Christian 
and  Catholic,  they  did  occnpy  notably  positions  of  influence;  but 
to-day  all  is  changed.  The  general  tendency  is  towards  the  separa- 
tion of  the  Church  from  the  State,  of  the  spiritual  from  the  temporal  j 
priests  are  not  wanted  in  the  Councils  of  State ;  there  are  some  who 
would  even  go  so  far  as  to  shut  them  up  within  their  sacristies. 

In  such  a  position  of  things  is  not  the  Church  justified  in  giving 
her  clergy  such  a  special  tmining  as  may  best  prepare  them  for  entire 
self-devotion  and  self-sacrificed  Is  it  not  the  same  feeliug,  or  at  any 
rate  the  recognition  of  a  like  necessity,  which  has  led  the  Anghcau 
Church  to  found  her  theological  colleges,  her  Keble  College  "? 

But  I  must  hasten  on.  One  of  the  great  objections  raised  by  Mr* 
Gladntone  against  the  Catholic  system  (and  in  this  he  is  seconded  by 
Dr.  Littledale)  is  tliat  CatholiciBm,  being  a  religion  of  auilwriti/,  is 
incompatible  with  liberty.  Both  look  upon  it  as  one  of  the  great 
benefits  of  the   Beformation,   that  it  brought  to    the   surface   this 

*  In  this  figure,  ilSO.  I  include  not  only  the  salariea  paid  by  the  GovemmeDt  in  lieu 
of  the  propi^rty  it  has  iipproprinted,  hut  also  all  incidental  som-ceB  of  income* 
t  On  the  Kefonuers,  p.  27- 


gigantic  question^  namely,  whether  freedom  is  one  of  the  vital  and 
lonnal   co-efficiente  for   all   healthy  life  and   action  of  the   human 


This  objection  I  have  met  with  several  times  in  Mr.  Gladstone's 
itinge,  bnt,  I  mnst  confese,  without  being  able  fiiUy  to  nnderstand 
'  it.  Does  Mr.  Gladstone  mean  that  every  one  has  the  right  and  the 
liberty  to  think,  say,  and  do  whatever  he  ^ill  on  all  BobjectB,  and  on  all 
occasions  t  If  this  is  what  he  means,  then  surely  it  must  be  allowed 
that  the  Reformation  brought  in  no  such  hberty.  5Ir.  Gladstone  him- 
self admitted  this  in  reference  to  the  English  Reformers,  at  least  to  the 
early  Reformers,  and  experience  teaches  ns  that  never,  in  any  place, 
^imder  any  system,  whether  political  or  rehgions.  has  such  liberty  been 
Dlerated.  Count  Bismark  refused  this  liberty  to  the  Catholics  some 
years  ago,  as  at  the  present  time  he  is  refusing  it  to  the  Socialist 
^democrats;  and  the  Swiss  Protestants  have  followed  his  example, 
They  have  proscribed  and  compromised  the  Cathohcs,  who  were  far 
from  claiming  liberty  to  think  and  to  say  anything,  who  were  per- 
ifectly  mlling  to  submit  to  the  strict  and  equitable  laws  of  their  country, 
rho  asked  nothing  in  fact  but  what  was  the  common  right  of  all. 
The  tnith  is  that  absolute  liberty  is  not  possible  anywhere,  either  in 
politics  or  religion.  The  liberty  of  man  is  restrict-ed,  first,  by  reason ; 
secondly,  by  his  natural  conscience ;  thirdly,  by  his  supernatural  con- 
science or  faith. 

When  a  man  thinks  and  speaks /re^/v  against  bis  reason,  he  is  held 

be  mad,  and  is  put  under  restraint.     This  is  the  common  verdict  on 

3erty  of  thinking  and  speaking  without  regard  to  the  first  authority, 

lie  authority  which  is  placed  of  God  ^\athin  us,  and  which  we  call 

When  a  man  thinks  and  speaks  in  defiance  of  natural  conscience,  he 
is  called  a  dishonest  man,  a  rogue,  a  dangerous  person,  and  the  law 
lays  its  hand  upon  him  as  a  noxious  and  unsafe  member  of  society. 

Upon  these  two  points  there  is  not  in  general  any  divergence  of 
opinion  among  men.     But  when   it  comes  to  a  question  of  thinking 

id  speaking  against  the  Qiristian  faith,  against  the  Holy  Gospel  and 
tradition,  as  both  represented  by  the  Church,  there  is  a  difterence  of 
opinion  at  once.  llr.  Gladstone  aud  Dr.  Littledale  regard  it  as  ii  desirable 
thing  that  men  should  be  allowed  to  thiiik,  say,  or  do  anything  they 
please.  **  For  the  spirit  of  the  Christian  rehgion,**  says  Mr,  Gladstone, 
*'BUch  as  we  profess  it,  is  undoubtedly  a  spirit  of  examination;''  whOe 
**the  spiiit  inculcated,  and  generally  prevaiUng»  in  the  Latin  commmiion 
is  a  spirit  of  acquiescence/'t 

It  seems  to  me  that  in  this  objection  against  the  Catholic  Church, 
^  which  recui'S  several  times  in  Mr,  GlacMones  pamphlet,  there  is  a 
reat  confusion  of  ideas,  a  great  want  of  clearness  and  precision.  If 
Ur.  Gladstone  had  analyzed  his  ideas,  pen  in  hand,  perhaps  he  would 
*  CoKTUMPOBABT  Bbtibw,  Octolfir.  p.  446-  t  Ibid-,  p.  430. 



have  been  led  to  express  in  a  less  vague  manner  this  his  great  griev- 
ance against  the  Catholic  Cliurch. 

I  would  call  tho  attention  of  Mr.  Gladstone  and  Dr*  Littledale  fii-st 
to  the  fact  that  the  Anglican  Church  does  not  tolerate  liberty  of  thought, 
speechy  and  action  under  all  conditions*  The  Book  of  Common  Prayer 
and  the  Tliirty-nine  Articles  impose  restrictions  on  and  define  limita- 
tions to  this  hbertj.  The  Ritualists  are  finding  out,  at  this  moment,  by 
experience,  tliat,  if  they  enjoy  a  somewhat  larger  hberty  in  the  Angli- 
can than  tbey  would  in  the  Cathohc  Chm'ch,  it  is  only  on  conditioa 
that  they  use  this  hberty  in  the  direction  of  Protestantiem,  Rationalism,, 
or  Deism,  They  may  deny,,  they  may  not  affirm ;  they  may  violate 
the  mbric  of  the  Common  Prayer  Book,  they  may  not  observe  it^. 
Am  I  not  stating  facts  ?  What  say  Mr.  Gladstone  and  Dr.  Littledale 
to  these  things  I 

I  maintahi,  then,  that  if  there  is  a  difference  between  Anghcanieni 
and  Catholicism  in  this  respect,  it  is  a  difference  of  degree,  not  of  kind,, 
and  I  hold  that  the  difference  is  entirely  in  favour  of  Catholicism. 

AVhat,  in  fact,  does  the  Catholic  Church  say  ?  She  says,  ''  I  do- 
not  forbid  you  to  study,  to  examine,  to  think  for  yourselves,  provided 
only  that  yun  do  all  this  in  suhnjissiun  to  my  authority,  because  that  is 
(ut  uifallihh  aaihorUy,  I  have  received  a  commission  to  teach  j  any- 
thing, thereforej  which  I  have  taught  or  may  teach,  you  are  not  at 
Liberty  to  deny  or  contradict,  under  pain  of  ceasing  to  belong  to  the 
Cathohc  Church,  If  you  desire  to  study  the  Scriptures,  follow  the 
unanimous  tradition  of  the  Fathers,  and  Jiever  foi-sake  it,  or  you  will 
iall  into  error.  You  desire  to  speculate,  you  foi-m  schemes  and 
theories  ?  Think,  speculate,  speak,  and  write ;  but  if  one  day  I  say  ta 
yoUj  Beware,  you  are  in  error;  what  you  are  saying  is  not  true,  or  i& 
dangerous,  you  must  he  ready  to  submit  at  once;' 

This  then  is  the  practice  of  the  Church.  Is  it  unreasonable  ?  Does 
Mr,  Gladstone  think  that  the  license  to  think,  epeak,  and  write 
granted  by  ProtcstantiBni  has  produced  good  results  on  the  social  and 
spiritual  life  ?  In  Germany  it  has  killed  religion.  In  England  it  has 
given  birth  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  sects,  and  it  wiU  one  day  kill 
rehgion  there,  if  Catholicism  does  not  save  it.  This  the  Ritualists  are 
as  ready  to  avow  as  ourselves : — 

"*  Tbe  rejection  that  on  thi*  Continent  of  Europe  thero  is  no  refuge  from 
Romanism  even  in  its  Vatican  form,  ought  to  reconcile  us  t-o  our  lot  as  members  of 
the  Ciiurch  of  England*     Nearly  everywhere  on  the  Continent  now  Romanism  is 
hone>'eoml>eil  with  infidelity,  and  flinga  back  men  who  wifih  to  be  Christiana  on 
a  hai  fill  though  disagreeable  alternative.     Seepticiam  progreeeea  in  the  Piniaaian. 
Church,  whicli  is  at  this  moment  agitat'ed  by  the  fact  that  of  thirty  thouBand... 
parjBhiouens,  nine  hundred  have  protested  against  a  pastor  who  *  denies  *  the  super*  j 
natural,  and,  therefore,  cunnot  believe  in  Chrid.    Similai*  revelations  crop  up  ml 
I  hi'  Protesliint  Church  of  Holland,  where  the  difference  between  the  Low  imd  tho  j 
High  among  ourselves  becomes  a  difference  between  believci's  and  non-btdievers  in 
the  Kicene  CreeiL     Pn.>teBtantisni  on  the.  Continent  is  helpless  as  a  defence  of  the 
fundamental  verities  of  Clii-istianity."  ♦ 

•  Church  lUviiw,  1878^  p.  1,  col.  2. 


But  is  there,  then,  nothing  latent  beneath  the  coinplaiiite  of  Mr. 
Gladstone  and  Dr,  Littkdalo?  There  ib.  These  two  honourable 
controvei'SiaUetfi  cannot  understand  how  Buch  truths,  for  example,  as 
the  Immaculate  Conception*  and  the  Infallibility  of  the  Pope — ti-uthe 
which  up  to  1854  and  1870  might  be  denied  by  good  Cathohcs— are 
►  Bince  that  time  made  obligatory  on  all  members  of  the  Catholic 

The  case, however,  is  veiy  simple.  These  two  truths,  formerly  denied, 
or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  disputed  by  fiome  few,  but  affiraied  by  the 
great  majority  of  Catholics,  have  been  defined,  as  fourteen  or  fifteen 
centuries  ago  the  Consubstantialifcy  of  the  Word  was  defi^ued  at  the 
Council  of  Nice,  the  Divinity  of  the  Spirit  at  the  Council  of  Constan- 
tinople, the  Unity  of  Person  in  Jeeus  Christ,  and  the  Maternity  of  the 
Virgin  at  the  Council  of  Ephesua,  and  the  Duality  of  Natures  at  the 
Council  of  Chalcedon, 

I  can  perfectly  understand  that  the  basis  of  the  Catholic  system, 
which  is  the  infaUible  and  divine  authority  oj  the  Church  to  teach,  may  be 
called  in  question ;  but  if  this  authority  be  once  admitted,  its  conse- 
quences cannot  be  disputed.  If  Christianity  speaks  of  rationahile 
ohsequium^  it  speaks  also  of  submisfiion  to  and  respect  for  authority. 
^Docebit  vos  omnem  veritatem — Ecclesia  columna  et  firmamentum 
veritatis/'     To  a  Catholic  this  is  the  compendium  of  faith. 

We  know,  unhappily  too  well,  that  the  mind  of  man  rebels  some- 
times,  for  reasons  more  or  less  openly  avowed,  against  the  authority 
of  the  Church,  Revolt  is  natural  to  humanity ;  calm,  unhesitating 
submiasion  is  far  less  so*  We  know  too,  however,  that  men  at  least 
the  equals  of  DulHnger  and  Flyacinthe  do  accept  unquestioningly  the 
precepts  and  teachings  of  the  Church. 

Dr.  Littledale  cannot  see  the  justice  and  reasonableness  of  Cardinal 

Bonnechose's  words:  **  My  clergy  is  a  regiment;  I  say  'March/  and  it 

larches."     I  confess  that  I  do  not  like  the  word,  because  it  may  give 

I  offence;  but  it  does,  nevertheless,  bring  out  very  forcibly  one  strong 

'  aspect  of  the  CathoHc  Claurch — the  fine  discipline  wliich  constituteB 

its  strength  because   its  unity.      Smce  the  French  Revolution  the 

Church  in  France  has  been  poor,  but  it  is  powerful  nevertheless,  for 

.it  is  imited  j  and  it  is  united  because  the  Concordat,  while  it  deprived 

4t  some  years  ago  of  some  of  its  rights,  constrained  it  to  draw  closer 

to  the  Holy  See.    That  Concordat  was  not  of  its  own  maldng ;  it  was 

not  even  the  complete  triumph  of  the  See  of  Rome.      The  Holy 

3ee  and  the  Church  of  France  had  each  to  make  many  sacrifices  in 

*  Speaking  of  the  Iiu maculate  Conception,  Dr.  Littledale  aajs  tb&t  the  definition 
of  18&I  "  eoi^iradii^U  the  well-nigh  unanimouM  UMiimonff  of  ancient  Christendom*'  (Con- 
TSxro&AET  ExYiEw  for  November,  p.  822).  Thia  ttaaertion,  which  I  have  read  with- 
mt  aurprise  in  newspaper  writingii,  did  aatoxush  me  ajB  coming  from  the  pen  of  Dr. 
Uiiil«M]aie.  11  he  would  be  preptirod  to  insure  the  inaertion  of  an  article  on  this  aubjoot 
L  the  pages,  eay,  of  the  Church  Quarterly  Review,  we  ehould  be  prepared  to  prove  to  him, 
i  gf&ve  and  ancient  authority,  that  even  outside  the  Latin  Church,  the  dog^raa  of  the 
^immaetdAte  Conception  hoA  been  received. 



the  interests  of  souls,  and  they  went  as  far  as  they  conld  go  in  the 
path  of  concession  ivithcmt  failing  in  dii^y.  Tlieir  part  was  mainly 
pasBive,  I  ask  myfc>elf,  therefore,  what  account  of  the  negotiations 
which  ififiued  in  the  Concordat  Dr,  Littledale  can  have  read,  tliat  has 
induced  him  to  characterize  it  as  '*  a  plvl  of  Pins  VII.  Avith  Napo- 
leon I. "  ?*  If  Dr.  Littledale  wiU  read  on  thif^  subject  the  Memoirs  of 
Cardinal  Pacca.  siill  better  the  History  of  iM.  d'Hanssonville, — who  is 
not,  I  believe,  a  Catholic,^ie  will  probably  form  qnite  another  idea 
of  the  part  taken  in  this  matter  by  Pope  Pins  VIL,  and  will  not  again 
apply  to  it  the  word  *'plot/*t 


But  I  must  draw  these  explanations  to  a  close,  thoroughly  inade- 
quate as  I  feel  them  to  be  to  the  complete  treatment  of  the  many 
questions  raised  in  the  two  articles  before  mo. 

Of  the  reasons  w^hich  Dr.  Littledale  gives  w^hy  Ritualists  do  not 
become  Roman  Catholics,  I  have  foimd  none  which  may  not  be 
brought  under  one  of  the  three  heads  described  by  me  as  *'  interested, 
sentimental,  or  i  ntellectual  motives."  He  brings  out  more  forcibly  some 
of  the  points  1  have  touched  on,  but  he  says  nothing  which  does  not 
confii-m  my  view  of  the  situation. 

I  can  thoroughly  appreciate  the  delicacy  of  the  position  of  this 
rehgious  party,  which,  conscious  of  its  ow^n  strength,  and  of  the  good 
which  it  is  doing  or  would  do,  yet  finds  itself  under  a  constant  cross- 
fire of  attack  on  eveiy  hand.  It  needs  some  courage  for  men  thus  to 
expose  themselves  to  the  charge  of  behig  traitors,  cowards,  deserteiB, 
while  they  are  conscious  of  intentions  so  wddely  diflerent.  I  should, 
therefore,  keenly  reproach  myself  if  I  had  paid  the  least  word  which 
could  wound  the  feelings  of  any  such.  Nothing  that  1  have  advanced 
has  been  prompted  by  any  feeling  of  hostility  to  the  Ritualist  party. 
On  the  contrary,  my  one  desire  is  that  God  may  make  clear  to  them  the 
tmth.  and  that  they  may  have  the  coxirage  to  embrace  it.  It  is  solely 
with  tills  v\p^^^  that  I  have  urged  and  re-ui'ged  upon  them  this  question : 
**  What  hinders  the  Ritualists  irom  becoming  Roman  Catholics?'* 
I  beseech  them  to  weigh  it  calmly,  and  in  doing  so  to  guard  agamst 

t  In  the  same  pl&ce  (Coktimpobj^t  Review,  November,  p.  810),  Dr.  Littledale 
aajB  that  '*  tlie  same  policy  is  beiog  carried  out  more  and  more  in  the  Auglo-Eomaii 
hoay»  whare  the  State  does  not  meddle  at  all ;"  and  tliat  **  thu  liiahops  in  Bel^nm  extort 
bonds  of  resignation  from  the  Ix^neficM  clergy."  What  is  going  on  in  England  we 
do  not  know  ;  but  we  Ktippoee  that  things  are  mueh  tho  same  as  in  France.  So  long  vm 
the  trvtt  bi^eficcB  of  tin*  Chureh  are  not  reatorod,  and  she  lives  a  precarious  life^  the 
rules  of  the  Canon  law  cannot  be  obet^rved  in  all  their  rigour.  They  apply  to  a  atate  of 
things  which  hae  been  coniplet^y  changed. 

With  reference  to  Dr»  Littledale* b  atatement  about  Belgium — a  statement  which  has 
appeared  tdeo  in  English  newspaperB-^we  give  it  a  categorical  dcaiial,  if  it  ia  intended 
to  descrit'O  a  genemJ  pnietica     If  it  fefers  only  to  an  isohiied  fa^t^  it  cannot  be  used  a« 
an  argument.    It  is  an  ille^ity,  neither  more  nor  le«fi.  for  which  neither  CalhoUciflm  nor*  j 
the  Holy  See  can  be  re8i;«>Ui3ible. 


that  impatience  and  irritability  which  too  often  characterize  their 
writings.     One  of  them  recently  wrote  as  follows : — 

"  It  would  be  a  good  tiling,  I  think,  if  some  of  our  friends  would  read  what  was 
written  in  past  times  bj  Tractarians,  Puseyites,  Breunionists,  and  then  ask  them- 
selves what  was  the  object  of  the  movement,  whither  it  tended,  and  whether  they 
reaUj  belong  to  itP  Are  they  tending  towards  the  same  direction?  I  thint 
thej  are  not.  The  object  of  the  Catholic  Movement,  aa  I  understood  it,  was  to 
raise  the  Church  of  England  out  of  the  stupor  into  which  she  had  fallen,  and  then 
to  bring  her  into  full  communion  with  the  other  branches  of  the  one  Yine.  The 
new  policy,  on  the  other  hand,  ia  only  likely  to  stereotype  her  insular  charader,  and 
to  prevent  her  sister  Churches  recognizing  her  legitimacy.  From  ten  to  twenty  years 
ago  the  desii*e  for  corporate  reunion  was  expressed  by  every  one  who  called  himself 
an  Anglo-Catholic,  x  ear  by  year  we  heard  of  the  wonderful  increase  of  members 
of  the  A.  P.  U.  C. :  now  one  hears  next  to  nothing  of  that  excellent  society ;  I 
doubt  if  it  maintains  its  former  numbers,  much  more  that  they  are  increasing ; 
while  almse  of  Borne  and  Roman  authorities  has  taken  the  place  of  a  perhaps  too 
deferential  tone  towards  them.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  something  wrong 
somewhere,  and  I  end  as  I  began  by  asking,  Whither  ai'e  we  drifting  ?  '** 

There  is  no  worse  counsellor  than  passion.  It  may  be  that  some 
Catholics  have  occasionally  been  unjust  to  the  Ritualists,  but  I  am 
certain  that  even  those  who  have  erred  the  most  in  this  respect 
would  willingly  give  their  lives  to  lead  them  into  the  truth. 

Abb&  Martin. 

•  Church  Review,  1878,  p.  242,  coL  2. 


Zei  F^ftmeM  «n  Tm^uie.    Par  OSHAN  Bs  Y,  Mftjor  YULDMHc 
ANtrRTOViCH.    Paria  i  Ottlnmnn  Lovy. 

THE  ligbtfl  of  conscience  and  civil  and  religious  liberty  are  phrases 
so  often  in  use  that  we  eeldoin  stop  to  ask  their  meaning.  In 
Eogland  they  probably  mean  perfect  liberty  of  thought  and  action  in 
BO  far,  but  in  so  far  only,  as  that  thuught  and  that  action  du  not  inter- 
fere with  an  equal  degree  of  hbeiiy  in  others.  It  is  very  seldom  that 
it  can  do  so  as  long  as  this  liberty  is  confined  (subjectively)  to  the 
domain  of  thought  alone ;  but  when  we  speak  of  the  province  of 
hmnau  action  (in  an  objective  sense),  it  is  difficult  to  see  how 
men  can  avoid  coming  into  collision  and  josthng  each  other  in 
consequence  of  divergent  religious  opinions.  The  external  aspect  of 
a  Protestant,  a  Roman  Cathohc,  or  a  Mahometan  country  is  some- 
thing  quite  distinct  in  each  case.  The  State  religion  influences  the 
administration  of  justice,  the  regulation  of  the  police,  the  course  of 
literature,  the  freedom  of  the  press,  and  all  the  general  habits  of  a 
great  people.  England  is  not  hke  France,  France  is  not  like  Turkey. 
To  say  therefore  that  the  question  of  the  East  should  be  argued  out 
and  thought  abont  quite  independently  of  morals  and  religion,  is  to 
ignore  aUke  the  teachings  of  history,  and  the  real  facta  of  the  case  as 
tliey  are  brought  before  us  at  the  present  day,  "  The  MahoniotanB, 
be  it  observed,  consist  not  of  one  race,  whose  members  &n^  united  by 
any  tie  of  consanguinity  or  influences  of  cUmate.  It  ik  a  mass  com- 
posed of  beterogeneous  elements,  cemented  by  a  conunon  faith,  and 
attached  to  certain  habits.'*  This  mass  has  for  it«  sole  principle  of 
cohesion  the  Mussulman  religion »  Were  it  permitted  me  to  borrow 
fi'om  things  mechanical  a  vulgar  comparison,  I,  with  the  writer  of  **  Les 
Femmes  en  Turquie,''  would  say — 

"  You  may^  cooaider  Mussiilmaii  society  under  the  form  of  an  mimcuBe  wheol,  in 
wliicb  fmih  in  *  Giu\  ami  SIiiluMin't  Ins  pwplift  *  takes  tBe  central  place,  and  the 
domestic  lil'e  and  manuvrs  tlixH  *  uf  tUea|Kik'js  and  feUios.    H^w  is  it  possible  to  do 



awET  with   the    smallest  porta   of    the    wheel  without    distnrhmg    the  whole 
jnechaniBin  ?    In  like  manner,  you  cannot  tcmch  the  smallest  of  the  i-ecognized  | 
manners  or  ctistiims  of  Ottoman  society  without  deranging  its  whola  organic  J 
being.    The  bands  which  link  together  the  faithful  believers  once  dissolved  our  J 
broken,  immedia,tely  considerations  of  nationality  would  prevail,  and   the  Greek,  | 
the  Sclavic,  the  Armenian  Mussulmajis  would  group   themselves    round    fresh  | 
centres.    Different  races  would  take  the  place  of  a  great  Empire,  and  the  crum- 
bling away  of  the  old  edifice  would  infallibly  follow  any  attack  made  upon  its 
fun<mmcntal  const itiit ion.    The  haivui  therefore,  domestic  slavery »  and  all  the 
abenrdities  of  the  Mahometan  law  must  he  looked  upon  as  indispensable  adjuncts 
to  the  Torkish  Empire  and  to  the  powers  who  have  guaranteed  its  integrity.*' 

Such  are  the  words  of  the  author  of  the  work  before  us. 
It  is  a  subject  which  has  by  no  means  passed  away  with  the 
Bulgarian  horroi-s  and  with  the  late  war.  Rather  has  ita  import- 
ance grown  upon  us  and  increased  with  the  new  refiponsibilities  that 
the  English  Govemment  has  taken  upon  itself  in  connection  with  the 
Anglo-Tnrhish  Convention,  which,  we  are  told  on  high  authority,  is  tlie 
necessary  complement  of  the  late  Berlin  Treaty,  The  work  to  which 
we  propose  to  call  attention  is  di\nded  into  two  part«,  the  first,  **  The 
Turks  and  their  Wives ;  **  the  second,  *'  The  Harem  in  connection  with 

Both  these  points  touch  the  social  and  political  aspect  of  Turkey, 
and  cannot  be  said  to  include  religious  cousidei-ations  distiuHirely  so 
called  in  Western  Europe*  lu  point  of  fact  it  is  one  of  the  character- 
istics of  modem  life  strictly  to  limit  the  sphere  both  of  rehgion  and 
theology,  whereas  the  ancient  religions,  especially  Mahometauism, 
include  within  their  province  all  the  varieties  of  thought  and  action 
wliieh  form  the  aggregate  of  our  practical  duties. 

The  East  has  long  been  noted  for  the  suborduiation  of  woman.  Her 
subjection  is  not  only  practised  by  Mussulmans  and  Bnddhista,  but  even 
by  Christian  Churches.  At  the  same  time  it  must  be  openly  avowed 
that  Mahometanism  has  as  it  were  put  the  final  seal  upon  this  ten- 
dency ;  and  if  we  are  to  be  fail'  judges  of  the  fearful  amount  of  evil 
for  which  the  false  Prophet  is  responsible,  a  fall  examination  of  the 
position  offered  by  him  to  woman  in  this  world  and  the  next  is 
€e8entiah  "  The  Koran  represents  woman  as  a  *  field,*  cultivable  or 
not  as  the  possessor  desires/'  While  not  excluding  her  absolutely 
from  the  blessings  of  Paradise,  it  places  her  there  in  a  low  and  subor- 
dinate position  at  the  feet  of  her  husband*  The  fii-st  and  only  duty 
of  women  is  to  please  him*  *'  Beyond  the  pale  of  matrimony,  what- 
ever her  intrinsic  merits,  she  is  reduced  to  that  absolute  state  of 
nothingness  which  best  becomes  so  insignificant  a  being/* 

It  is  in  strict  accordance  with  this  view  that  the  utmost  facility 
should  be  given  to  divorce.  **  Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee  ?  " 
is  the  simple  formula  pronoimced  by  the  husband.  It  is  hardly  neces* 
eary  to  add  that  no  such  privilege  is  accorded  to  the  woman. 

The  language  employed  in  the  Koran  upon  the  subject  of 
polygamy  is,  indeed,  not  devoid  of  hesitancy  and  doubt*  It  is 
meritorious  for   a   man  to  have  but  one  wife;    but   shortly  it  is 




added,  If  a  man  cannot  be  content  with  one.  four  are  permitted. 
Those,  it  is  added,  who  exerciBe  such  "  privilege  ehould  be  benevolent 
and  impartial,  not  ehowing  the  slightest  preference  for  either  or  any 
of  them.**  How  possible  it  ie  for  a  man  to  love  even  two  women  at 
the  same  time  and  in  a  similar  degi-ee,  is  the  test  and  condemnation  of 
so  dreadful  a  Byetem.  The  Koran,  however,  entem  into  the  moBt 
minute  details  as  to  the  manner  in  which  this  difficult  project  may 
be  carried  out.  Not  only  is  each  wife  entitled  to  a  distinct  apart- 
ment, where  she  is  served  by  slaves  who  are  dependent  upon  her  alone, 
but  she  has  an  indefeasible  right  to  a  separate  table,  Day,  even  to  a 
private  door  and  a  separate  staircase. 

The  house  of  a  Tiirkish  grandee  is  tiierefore  divided  into  separate 
apartments,  perfectly  alike  and  furnished  in  the  same  manner.  The 
wives  of  one  and  the  same  huBband  are  placed  upon  a  footing  of 
apparent,  but  not  real  equality,  for,  as  has  been  well  said,  "  the  interior 
of  the  harem  is  really  regulated,  not  by  the  precepts  of  the  Koran,  but 
by  the  wliims  of  its  own  lord  and  master:  *  We  all  know  the  effecte  of 
eelf-indulgencCj — how  one  act  of  ein,  carelessness,  and  injustice,  leads 
to  another,  and  thus  by  an  easy  descent  the  whole  moral  being 
becomes  one  raasB  of  pntrifyiiig  corruption.  To  this  degradation 
Christian  marriage  opposes  a  check.  who  have  taken  each 
otlier  for  life,  for  richer  for  poorer,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  find  that 
they  must  either  put  up  with  each  other  e  weaknesses  and  failings,  or 
break  at  once  with  God  and  lose  character  with  man.  In  iMahometan 
countries  the  reverse  of  this  takes  place*  The  family,  iiiBtead  of  keep- 
ing itB  placCj  is  in  a  constant  state  of  deterioration.  The  bride  comes 
to  what  she  feels  may  only  be  a  temporary  home.  Hence  her  efforts 
are  directed  not  to  the  permanent  moral  improvement  of  her  husband, 
but  to  the  perfection  of  those  base  arts  which  tend  to  lower  his  real ' 
character.  These  may  endure  for  a  time,  but  are  fleeting  in  their 
very  nature.  As  the  exertion  of  a  noble  mind  ever  leads  on  to  fresh 
and  elevating  effoi-ts,  the  resistance  to  evil,  once  overcome,  ever 
opposes  a  feebler  bamer  to  the  indulgence  of  sensuality,  which  grows 
by  what  it  feetie  on. 

This  sad  moral  decline  is  well  given  in  the  little  book  before  us,  in 
the  form  of  a  "  short  typical  histoiy  of  a  Turkish  home  in  the  liigher 
class/*  The  manners  of  the  people  of  Constantinople  are  graphicaBy 
described.  The  author  of  this  book  conceives  that  he  can  give  a 
more  accmrate  description  of  Turkish  life  than  previous  writers* 

"  PoreigncrB,"  Biiye  be,  **  wlio  have  hitherto  described  Turkish  manners  are  but! 
like  apoctators  placed  before  the  sta^e*  witnesses  of  what  may  be  shown  to  them,  i 
None  of  them  liafi  ever  been  behina  the  scenes,  still  less  been  intimate  with  the 
act4>r6.    Now  it  is  behind  the  curtain  that  I  desire  to  introduce  you,  where  you  can 
take  a  near  view  of  every  object,  and  judge  f(ir  yourselves* 

*'In  Turkey  there  ai*e  two  soils  of  marriage.  A  man  may  either  choose  his 
wife  or  he  may  buy  her.  Marriage  by  choice  is  union  with  a  free-bi;»rn  girl  of 
Mussulman  pai'entage.  Marriage  by  purchase  ia  that  which  is  contracted  either 
with  slaves,  or  girls  reputed  to  be  such.*' 




i  hmttcf  to  Imp  1 



L  be  «U»  10  htm  M 

win  t«m«kffri 

imric  of  varit.    Gba  ire  tbcm  wtoadcr  liuil 
the  toi  **«*^'*^*^^  tki  eu  be  btoii^  is  to  < 

Then  foIlowB  tbe  account  of  an  interview  betwMii  tlie  two  oldl 
ladies: — 

**  Tb«  aoyier  ol  Xxaet  B^  is  tlien  sare,  wbenerer  sh^  m;iT  |^n^<  t\  ^^ 

tie  BKMt  «Bm  and  ooiirteoos  wdcotne.    Coslam  bas  decrtvil  tbjit  -^  ait 

tbe  Boan^  wben  tbe  da^rea  apprnacb  to  taike  off  ber  f^O  aad  ckvi*.  luni  abo 
tdla  tliem  ol  tbfi  object  of  ber  n^t.  The  joung  girl*a  motbaf*  made  aware  «l  tbo 
4ili§ect  of  tbe  Wait^  mjikea  baste  to  join  tbe  strangen  i^  place  betaell  br  ber  aida 
Ml  tbe  diTaa.  Abneadj.  bowicTer,  she  bas  giren  her  commands  tbat  tbe  jiMii^ 
Mfy  sbafl  be  diCMai'  il.  an^l  Knr  hair  arranged  with  sdl  pimV4<»  car*v  In  oi\li%r  to 
prodBiee  a  first  startli  ip«.>n  the  mother  of  her  future  husUi .  tb^ 

j^svag  peraon  is  at  h^  .  the  t<ro  *  mammas'  employ  their  tii^  ft#  itt 

tl^ae  eompfiments  and  commonplace  civilities  of  wbiob  women  are  tn  cinsi^ 
CQtmtiy  so  prodigal*  when  thej  have  nothing  of  real  importance  to  Baj. 

"Tbe  jmmg  girl  enterm.  Blttshing  and  embarrafiBed,  with  imoertain  step,  abe 
app^oaehea  the  stranger,  bending  downwards  with  graceful  action,  in  order  to 
aesae  and  then  to  kiss  the  hem  of  ber  garment.  She  then  ivtirea  a  few  stoj^,  tuid 
remains  standing  in  the  humble  attitude  of  u  slave  subjected  to  the  ins^^cti^ui  of 
a  pnrcbaser.  I^  soon  as  Izset's  mother  has  set  ejes  upon  the  jonng  girl  the  tii-tit 
words  wbicb  escape  her  are,  '  Mach  Allah  1  Macb  Alkb  !  *  the  meaniu^  ot  whieh 
is  *  A  miracle  from  God !  a  miracle  from  God !  *  This  exclamation*  takeu  fi\*m  the 
Koran,  is  always  *  the  correct  thing'  whenever  we  desire  to  ex]>r<*s.^  the  rtduiinitiou 
prodnced  in  our  minds  by  an  animated  being,  whether  a  beautifnl  womati  or  a  tine 
hor^,  kc.  The  MuBSulman  faith  attributes  to  these  words  a  power  and  i-irtue  of 
their  own,  that>  namely,  of  avei-tintj  xmd  paralysing  the  Influence  of  th«»  en  I  eye, 

"After  the  inevitable  *Hach  AlTab/  a  minnte  examination  of  the  youujj  ^trl 
begins.  Izzet*8  mother,  with  the  eye  of  an  eirpert,  begins  her  examiiiatiuu  witli 
^e  face*  and  exclaims  with  enthusiasm, 

***Mach  Allah!  Madame,  your  daughter  is  liVe  the  moon,  the  full  mo^m  I 
How  black  are  her  eyea  and  her  hair*  Mach  AUah  !  Hor  hair  ivaehea  d<nvu  ti>  lic^r 
feet ;  her  well-rounded  figure  is  perfect ;  and  what  a  skin,  like  ivory,  Mach  Alliili ! 
Were  she  a  slave  she  would  be  well  wortb  a  tbouaand  puraes !'  (about  £4|0t>0)." 




The  young  girl  retires ;  money  matters  are  hinted  at»  but  nothing 
definite  is  Bettled  for  upon  leaving  the  house  Izzet's  mother  imme- 
diately goes  elsewhere  for  the  purpose  of  enacting  a  similar  comedy. 

No  sooner  ia  the  old  hidy  at  home,  than  she  repairs  to  her  eon,  who 
ifi  full  of  fun  and  cajolery,  anxious  to  know  the  result  of  these 
proceedings : — 

*'  Sbe  then  tells  all  tkat  has  occurred  on  her  tour  of  inspeotion.  One  hj  one  she 
enumerates  th  e  houses  she  has  visited,  and  the  fair  houria  she  has  seen.  In  such-and- 
such  a  family  there  was  a  *  sweet  blonde/  yet  one  who  in  certain  respects  is  hardly 
suitable.  In  another  I  have  seen  a  charming  creature*  daught^^r  of  a  rich  Egyptian 
merchant.  Yet  the  mother  does  not  feel  dispriscd  \£i  receive  a  son-in-law  into  " 
estabhahment ;  her  object  is  to  get  rid  of  her  daughter.  *  Oh,  my  dear  boy/  c 
the  muther,  with  emotion,  *  I  think  I  have  really  found  the  wife  yon  want,  SI 
is  the  daughter  of  Hadji  Usam  EffencU,  whose  house  is  on  the  El  Sleidan.  She  is 
pretty;  ah*?  is  charming/  Then  foUowa  in  detjiil  such  a  description  of  her  pei"w>n 
aa  I  nave  already  given  to  my  readers.     Natunilly  such  a  portrait  intlumes  the 

fonng  man's  imagination^  who  already  dreams  of  paradise.  'In  a  word,  dear 
zzet/  says  f^he,  '  to  cut  short  all  inquiry,  this  girl  is  a  real  gem»  As  to  her  con- 
nections, all  I  can  say  is,  that  the  young  man  would  be  in  good  luck  who  enters 
such  a  family/  '*  " 

Some  remarlvB  follow  of  a  very  sensible  kind,  on  the  nature  of  lo 
in  Mahometan  countries,  fouLided  mure  npon  the  mere  sensual  aepi^ct 
of  its  object  than  with  us;  it  is  both  more  violent  and  leas  durable. 
It  partakes  more  of  pasmoiij  less  of  sonttment,  and  is  grounded  upon 
desire  rather  than  upon  eeteern  i^ — 

*'  So  long  as  he  has  nut  seen  the  object  of  bis  dreams,  the  Mu8sulman*s  hea<:l  is 
fairly  turned.  Once  Ix^hekl  and  kno^vn,  this  ideal  being  disappears,  and  the  true 
person  who  takes  her  place  is  discovered  to  have  all  the  failings  inherent  in  poor 
human  nature.  From  that  moment  all  attraction  is  gone,  and  the  imagination,  in 
its  disappointment,  turns  to  seek  some  charmer,  always  ineomparable  while  she  ia 
onknowti.  The  same  delusion  is  repeated  over  again,  till,  going  from  one  ideal  to 
another,  a  man  finds  himself  with  four  very  matter-of-fact  wives  on  his  hands,  not 
to  mention  certain  old  acquaintances  of  a  less  honourable  kind." 

These  remarks  have  all  the  graphic  characteristics  which  belong  to 
the  obsei-vations  of  a  faithful  eye-witness.  They  show  how  the  grossest 
evils  strike  into  a  social  system,  and  incorporate  themselves  with 
human  affections,  and  that  without  the  sUghtest  idea  upon  the  part  of 
the  wrongdoer  how  sinful  an  action  he  is  committing.  *^  What  every 
one  says  must  be  tiiie'*  is  a  dangerous  form  of  fallacy,  but  its  con- 
sequences are  far  less  fatal  than  those  of  its  correlative,  "  Whatever 
everybody  does  must  be  right/'  are  to  the  maintenance  of  virtue. 

Those  who  best  know  the  secret  of  happy  marriages  are  well  awaro 
how  a  certain  amoimt  of  intiraacy  among  young  people  tends  to 
secure  ultimate  happiness.  '*  Give  and  take  "  is  the  sole  foimdation  of 
well-assorted  wedlock.  In  this  department,  as  in  most  other-,  m**  *:  a 
compromise  ;  and  it  is  only  by  becoming  aware  of  the  moral  v  ^ 

as  well  as  moral  strength  of  the  young  lady,  when  a  man  att.i 
himself,  that  he  can  arrive  at  a  tolerable  estimate  * 
After  all,  it  is  not  in  the  ball-room,  but  in  the  family 
gf^and^f  but  in  the  petite  comiiJ,  that  a  man  should  r 
the  wretched  system  of  Tnrkoy,  however,  all  tliat 


J  is 

>n*      M 




1^     inn 
^1     car 

groom  IS  permitted  to  hope  for  are  a  few  furtive  glances.  The  young 
lady  may  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  future  husbaiid  from  behiiKl  the 
lattice  of  her  prison-like  home,  or  the  young  gentleman  may  see  hie 
intended  as  she  glides  through  the  fashionable  street  in  a  close 
carriage : — 

To  bIiow  the  yi>ung  ^irl  to  I*^zet  a  fi*esh  rendezrous  muBt  be  agreed  mxm,  Thfj 
.  ifuhmit  entrasted  with  the  miBsion  o£  infoi-iuing  the  youn^  man  of  time  and 
plaico*  entei^  hia  room,  undt  elated  with  altnost  a  DoiaterouB  joj,  thus  addi^esBea 

'"Mudji!  mudji!'  (Grood  news!  good  news!).  'What  am  I  to  Lave  for  it* 

"  *  Whatever  yon  please ;  only  speak  out.* 

"  *  Well,  tUeu»  to-mon*ow,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  you  will  be  ejcpected 
at  the  *•  Sweet  Waters/*  If  you  see  a  yellow  carriage  drawn  by  greys  looJc  well 
into  it.     The  lady  in  the  piuk  iradji  is  oui"  well-l>elo¥ed,' 

**  FfoKi  this  moment  the  heart  of  poor  Izzet  begins  to  beat  violently ;  his 
imiigiuatJon  is  more  and  more  active ;  hours  and  minutes  are  ages  for  him.  All 
night  long  the  yellow  carriage,  with  its  grey  horses,  is  passing  and  repagsing 
before  his  eyes. 

'*At  an  early  hour  he  dresses  himself,  and  repairs  tt»  the  Sweet  Waters. 
Arriving  two  hours  before  the  appointed  time,  he  seats  himself  in  some  well- 
selected  shady  nook,  from  which  he  can  observe  any  yellow  can-ia^e.  On  a  sudden 
the  signs  agreed  upc»n  aniiounoe  to  him  that  his  intended  is  commg*  He  at  once 
rises,  and  anxiously  looks  into  the  very  rece£ses  of  the  coach.  She  passes  by,  and 
the  entranced  young  man  sees  for  the  first  time  the  veil  and  the  cloak  which  cover 
his  future  wife.  With  this  he  must  be  satisfied,  iind,  as  a  token  of  gi-atitication, 
he  makes  a  low  bow,  which  she  gi*aeefully  returns.  Thei*eiip<in  the  coachman 
laahe«  his  greys,  leaving  poor  Izzet  quite  overcome  by  the  rather  singular 

The  preliminaries  are  BOon  arranged,  and  we  have  then,  in  great 
detail^  a  full  and  accurate  description  of  a  Turkish  maniage,  the 
gnests,  the  tronssean,  and  all  the  accompanying  fcstivitice.  All  these 
are  admirably  painted — touched  with  a  master  hand ;  and  we  wish 
that  we  could  entertain  our  reader  with  a  complete  translation  of 
ever}"^  word.  Time  and  space  render  thxB  impossible.  After  narrating 
the  humour  of  the  crowd,  and  Ihe  arrival  of  the  bridegroom  at  hie 
lady'e  house,  our  author  describes  his  first  view  of  the  f^iir  bride* 

Escaping  from  the  crowd — 

''  Iz3&et  directs  his  steps  to  the  staircase.  He  ascends  it  with  a  grave  and  solemn 
&lcp»  for  he  has  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  figure  on  the  landing,  clad  in  a  thick,  rose- 
ojloored  veil,  whose  profile  presents  to  him  a  delightful  vision*     He  approttches  her 

'  liont  uttering  a  word,  and  gazes  at  her  for  some  time  without  the  slight^^et  sign 

i  life  being  given  by  this  motionless  being.  On  a  sudden  the  statue  clad  m 
^  rmpnts  fringed  with  gold  makes  a  turning  moveuient,  as  if  mechanicaUy 
whopJing  npon  some  pivot,  and  stands  face  to  face  with  her  admirer.     The  latter, 

I  a  ip.llant  gentleman,  places  his  hand  under  the  arm  of  his  idol>  and  accompanies 
hf^  iiptial  apartment.     Im.mediately  upon  entering  it,  she  goes  straight  to 

a  ^  under  which  a  throne  has  been  made  ready  for  her.     Ix^et  places  her 

im  jI  venturing  to  disturb  a  single  fold  of  the  veil  which  conceals 

fii  of  his  future  spouse.    He  then  retires,  witli   marks  of  the 

m  't,  and  rejoins  nis  Mends,  who  are  waiting  for  him  in  an 

aj .  r>r  gentlemen." 

"**  then  admitted. 
1    • 

Tig  lady  and  her  throne,  the  curiouR 
an,  of  which  the  carpet  and  cushions 




are  adorned  with  silk,  or  compoRed  of  velvet  with  a  golden  fringe. 
This  fiiniiture  ib  de  riguenr  in  the  nuptial  chamber.  Next  a  visit  is 
made  to  see  the  trousseau  and  the  dreaaes  of  the  bride.  This  domestic 
exhihition  is  protected  by  a  gilded  railing,  which  permits  of  everything 
being  seen  but  not  tonehed^ — a  necessaiy  precaution,  for  in  such  caBeB 
thieves  under  cover  of  a  veil  are  far  more  dangerous  than  tlneves  with 
the  face  exposed. 

It  would  seem  that  in  the  mamage  feast,  the  strict  precepts  of  the 
Prophet  with  regard  to  what  we  now-a-dajR  call  total  abBtinence  are 
little  observed ; — 

'*  Th«  whole  evening  is  passed  in  tbe  liridal  house  in  one  series  of  carousals, 
while  the  musiciims  and  tlancinc  girls  do  their  very  beet  to  entertain  the  gnests. 

"Among  the  men,  spirits  repiice  the  refreshment  of  rose  water,  which  is  ex- 
tremelj  populai-  with  the  Indies,  MnssuLmaiiB  now-a-davs  care  but  little  for  the 
sbnct  interdict  put  by  the  prophet  upon  spirituous  liquors.  Thej  fancy  that 
after  centuries  these  laws  have  ended  by  repealing  themselves,  and  havo»  in  short, 
evaporated,  leaving  lie  hind  them  as  a  nemi  reeidnnm  a  certain  amount  of  pure 
alcohol.  At  maiiriage  feasts,  especially ^  this  happy  faith  finds  ferrent  adherents, 
for,  with  the  exception  of  the  l>ridegroom  and  his  father -in- law^  we  may  bo  sure 
to  find*  after  seven  in  the  evening,  the  majority  of  the  cnests  either  lying  upon  the 
ground  or  reposing  at  their  full  length  upon  the  divan.  ' 

The  departure  of  the  gneHts  is  followed  by  a  Ute-hrUte  interview 
between  the  bride  and  bride|2^oom.  It  requires  a  master  hand  to 
depict  such  scenes  wit!i  a  jiiBt  regard  to  truth  on  the  one  hand  and 
moral  delicacy  on  the  other.  We  shall  therefore  leave  the  newly 
mamed  pair  wnthin  the  nuptial  chamber,  to  which  they  are  conducted 
by  a  eunuch  holding  a  flambeau  m  his  hand.  We  can  hardly,  however, 
pass  over  this  word  **  eunuch ''  without  hinting  at  the  horrors  it 
recalls.  The  delicacy  w^e  have  just  alluded  to  is  not  that  wliich  sliunfi 
plain  speaking  but  rather  courts  it^  and  while  avoiding  all  that  can 
make  vice  alluring,  seeks  the  exposure  of  infamy  without  an  attempt 
to  flinch. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  race,  which  has  made  such  noble  sacrifices  for 
the  abolition  of  predial  slave ly,  ^^ll  never  shrink  from  doing  its  duty 
in  the  matter  of  domestic  slavery,  which,  if  in  some  respects  less  cruel, 
is  certainly  in  many  of  its  features  not  less  comipting.  We  imagine, 
from  all  we  have  heard  from  recent  visitors  to  Egypt,  that  the 
horrors  of  the  middle  passage  and  the  slave  ship  might  fairly  bo  paral- 
leled in  honker,  if  not  in  kind,  by  the  mutilations  of  Gondokoro. 

Let  us,  however,  leaving  this  distasteful  theme,  recur  once  more 
our  author's  pages,  and  bear  what  he  says  of  the  prospects  of  t 
''  happy  pair  "  now  domiciled  in  their  new  home  : — 

t  "  After  manriage  comes  business,  after  business  care»  Such  is  the  tonchsto]  „ 
'by  which  we  can  unfailingly  discern  whether  a  marriag©  such  as  we  have  described' 
has  the  sanction  of  rigbt  reason, 

**  Thore  ia  a  saying,  •  The  Turk  first  acts  and  then  takes  counstd/  It  is  an  old 
one.  and  well  known,  being  no  less  applieiiblc  to  social  than  to  ixditical  matters.  A 
Turk  doce  first  wbat  comee  into  his  head,  and  aftcnvarde  m  not  slow  to  ac^knowledge 
he  baB  committed  an  act  of  folly.  All  meaiLB  are  then  allowable  to  get  owt  of  the  scrape. 
Thus  it  is  with  niarriage,  and  daily  experience  only  brings  out  into  bolder  reii^ 




the  tmtli  of  the  prorerb.  Were  it  possible  to  arriTe  at  tbe  sfcatiatic^  of  Ttzrkiak 
gnarmgea,  it  would  be  found  that  out  of  ten  rniiane  contracted  in  the  same  year 
not  more  thim  one  baa  a.  forttuiate  issue.  Of  the  nine  remaining  eix  end  in 
diTOFoe,  and  the  three  last  are  lo8t  in  the  sinuoitfl  pathB  which  aie  a  neoeflsary 
part  of  poly^my. 

"  A  well*di8p08ed,  honest  Turk  may  indeed  Bay  to  himself,  '  What  is  the  uBe 
of  anch  a  nnmber  of  wives  ?  They  do  but  bring:  multiplied  troubles  sind  misery. 
One  woman  is  neither  better  nor  worse  than  another.  When  I  hare  got  one  I 
keep  her»  for  in  making  a  change  I  might  have,  perhaps,  worse  Inck.  fly  happi- 
aes8  and  repose  are  of  more  importance  to  me  than  all  the  wires  in  the  world. 
"Wliy  run  any  fresh  risk  in  a  matter  of  such  importance  ? '  *' 

Theee  very  practical  views,  this  sound  common  sense,  h  the  ground- 
xrork  of  the  few  happy  marriages  which  are  still  to  be  fonnd  among 
MosmibxianB.  Not  that  even  this  implies  anything  like  what  would  be 
called  in  a  Christian  land  single-hearted  devotion.  Those,  however, 
who  are  best  acquainted  with  polygamy  will  not  fail  to  acknowledge 
how  manifold,  even  with  such  a  drawback,  are  the  advantages  of  a 
system  in  which  one  woman  alone  rules  the  eetabhshment,  and  takes 
rank  with  the  husband. 

**  The  first  eanse  of  the  inconstancy  of  the  Turk,  and  the  i>rematnre  eclipse  of 
*' — led  joys,  is  what  I  have  above  mdicated.  When  a  man  is  foolish  enough  to 
;  his  destiny  to  the  favour  of  the  stars  he  need  not  be  surprised  if  heavy 
elonds  soon  darken  the  akies  of  married  existence.  For  after  the  first  fortnight 
Izietand  his  spouse"  (to  whom  the  author  gives  the  name  Zerah)  "  see  dawning 
upon  the  horizon  disi:iuieting  signs  of  misunderstandingB,  The  cause  is  a  mutuiu 
disenchantment.  Two  over-excited  ima^^ations.  suddenly  bronght  into  contact 
TRrith  real  life,  cannot  fail  to  have  upon  each  other  a  chilling  and  bitter  effect, 
Izret  finds  out  that  Zerah  is  not  in  reality  (far  from  it)  the  wonder  so  much 
boasted  of  by  her  mt^ther,  and  Zerah,  on  her  side,  can  but  eee  in  her  dear  Izzet  a 
mortal  not  unlilte  other  mortals  who  daily  pass  in  front  of  her  windows.  Com- 
paring him  with  the  pompous  phrases  which  had  been  made  of  his  merits,  he 
appears  indeed  to  her  but  a  ruefid  knight.  This  mutual  disillusion  has  the 
natural  effect  of  making  the  young  couple  sulky  and  a  little  spiteful,  and  this 
tamper  dechu-es  itself  at  first  in  disparaging  remarks  and  altercations^  and  next 
reproaches,  and  then  more  serious  differences. 

••  Among  the  indirect  causes  which  tend  to  ferment  discord,  we  mar  note  the 
emronndings  of  the  young  people*     Little  room  is  thei-e  for  wonder,  if  the  mother 

ft  relations  of  Zerah  do  their  best  to  excite  the  young  woman  a^inst  her 

•bnud.  They  are  never  tired  of  telling  her  *  that  young  man  is  trying  to  live 
wit»^  '.the  does  not  treat  her — ^a  b«iutiful  person  like  her— «s  she  deserves 


The  husband  is  not  likely  long  to  be  pleased  with  a  sulky  and  dis- 
contented wife: — 

"Influences  of  a  corresponding  kind  are  soon  felt  among  the  connckciiona  of 
Izzet  Bey.  Accoi-ding  to  uieir  version,  the  young  man  has  not  experienced  from 
his  father-in-law,  Hadji  Usam,  that  r^ard  which  was  his  due.  The  family  has 
heejL  shabby  to  him.  The  presents  made  were  barely  worth  mention.  These 
affectinnntc  parents  do  not  even  spare  the  young  wife;  hints  are  thrown  out 
awaken  the  husband's  jealousy;  nis  mother,  or  some  female  family 
iot  hesitate  to  gay  to  him — *  Izzet,  keep  your  eyes  open,  a  certain  friend 
of  yt>ufs  i&  very  fond  of  walking  abroad.'  Thereupon  Izzet  in  a  fury  returns  home» 
finds  his  wife  prepared  for  a  walk,  tears  off  her  veil,  which  he  thinks  too  trans^ 
parent,  i    "  Hes  his  passion  by  sending  her  back  with  a  box  on  the  ear, 

*'  Hell  e  harmony  of  wedded  life  is  gone,  for  in  spite  of  several  well- 

utended  '  maice  ups,'  comphtints  and  violence  follow  their  appointed  course.  If 
ny  jeiders  think  that  I  exaggerate,  I  regret  that  I  cannot  takv  them  with  me  into 
tom»  '*  '^  quarters  of  Constantinople,  There  would  they  heai'  and  see  many 
ihi-'  nfirm  my  testimony.     One  night,  it  would  be  the  sound  of  music  and 

revti.j,  i^xjLtL-d  with  shouts  of  kughter,  and  upon  asking  the  reason,  the  answei* 

I  2 




would  be,  There  is  a  marriage  at  Hadji  Ueam  EfEendi'e,  or  some  sucli  name: 
Another  night,  frightful  cries  would  Ruddenly  wake  them  up,  and  cause  them  to 
rush  to  the  windows  in  alarm.  What  is  the  mxitter  ?  Oh,  nothing  worth 
mention.  A  row  is  going  on  at  Hadji  ITsam  Effeudi's.  The  newly  married  couple 
have  had  a  quarrel,  ami  the  huahajid  is  Ijcalinij  his  wife," 

In  Buch  circumstancee  it  is  as  natural  as  common  to  tliink  of 
divorce,  for  by  the  laws  of  Mahomet  the  woman  can  snggeBt  no 
reason  against  it.  The  hueband  has  only  to  repeat,  as  Abraham  did  to 
Agar,  **  Be  off  I  "and  the  separation  is  accomplighed.  More  usual, 
however,  is  the  fashion  to  take  a  second  wife,  where  means  aie  not 
w^anting  to  support  her.  Such  is  more  especially  the  case  with  the 
first  love,  who  is,  in  a  wealthy  family,  generally  a  person  of  good 
t^ounectiou,  and  therefore  deserving  of  consideratioiu  She  is,  also,  by 
law,  the  mother  of  the  future  head  of  the  family. 

Of  women,  however,  there  ie  never  a  famine ; — 

'*  Izzet,  then,  invoking  the  sanction  of  religion,  seta  forth  in  search  of  a  eeeond 
wife.  The  change  causes  him  no  difficulty,  for  by  descending  only  a  roiv  or  two 
in  the  social  scale,  he  easily  finds  plenty  of  young  gills  ready  to  give  him  their 
hand.  Fifteen  days  after  the  family  decision  Imd  been  made,  it  is  announced  that 
a  second  marriage  of  Izzet  Bey  with  Chefikeh  Hanum,  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
rice  merchant,  has  been  decided  itpon.  Tlie  Recond  marriage  is  colebi*ated  with 
fresh  aplendourt  and  its  sound  of  triumph  re-echoes  far  and  wide,  as  if  to  give 
petty  annoyance  to  Zerah  and  her  family.  The  first  wife  indeed  ciui  ecarceiy  hide 
tier  feelings  of  scorn.  QuaiTels,  messages,  shot«of  all  kinds  are  fiied  oif  betweeJi 
Izzet  and  Zerah.  At  one  moment  it  is  he  who  is  ordering  her  to  appear, 
at  another  it  is  she  who  ia  requesting  divorce.  One  says,  *  Come,'  the  other,  *  Lei 
me  alone,' 

"  The  issue  of  the  strife  camiot  be  in  question,  for  every  advantage  is  on  the 
side  of  the  husband.  He  is  installed  to  hisj  heart's  content  in  hia  new  establish.* 
meat,  where  the  second  wife  showers  upon  him  all  her  tenderness  and  care.  Att^ 
to  the  poor  forsaken  one,  she  is  consumed  by  giief  and  bitterness,  without  power 
of  flight,  in  the  solitude  of  the  harem.  After  several  months  passed  in  this  way, 
the  family  of  Zerah  consents  at  length  to  hoist  a  flag  of  truce,  and  a  treaty  of 
peace  is  signed  Ix^tween  the  two  parties,  according  to  which  the  lady  consents  t4> 
rejoin  her  husband,  while  he  on  hi  a  side  engages  to  treat  her  with  all  that  tender- 
nesa  and  respect  to  which  a  lawful  wife  haa  claim.  Aa  to  Cliefikeh,  it  is  under- 
stood that  she  and  Zerah  shall  live  upon  good  terms,  as  is  fitting  in  the  case  oi^ 
two  wives  who  love  and  seiTe  the  same  master. 

"  It  ia  hai'dly  necessary  to  say  that  such  ari'angements  are  concluded  without 
any  formality,  and  that  the  understanding  is  complete  without  affixing  any  sort  of 

**  Zerah  finds  hi»i'self ,  then,  one  fine  day  established  in  the  harem  of  Izzet  Bey^ 
with  the  title  and  honom's  of  first  wife.  This  distinction  is  not  of  great  irnxjor^ 
tance  when  a  husband  has  only  two  wives »  but  when  he  has  acquired  several  Zerah 
will  rise  in  dignity.  This  cannot  fail  to  hapj>en,  for  one  instant,  one  propitious 
instant,  is  enough  to  carry  I?,/,et  into  a  fresh  maiTiage. 

*'  Such  a  happy  incident  occurs  in  his  promotion  to  the  rank  of  Pacha.  For 
some  time  the  Grand  Yizier  has  promised  liim  a  post  of  considemtion.  Reports  to 
that  effect  ha^l  already  Ijeen  spread  abixmd,  and  the  mother  of  Izzet  was  half  mad 
with  joy.  To  see  her  son  Pacha  had  been  the  di*eiim  of  her  life,  and  faithful  to 
the  superstitions  of  her  race  she  had  mif^le  a  vow  that  if  the  Lord  would  grant  her 
this  favour  she  would  sacrifice  several  mms,  and  off er  to  the  acceptance  of  the  new 
dignitary  a  fair  CireaABian. 

**  No  sooner  said  than  done.  No  sooner  is  the  Imperial  firman  issued  thim  th©' 
good  old  mother,  impatient  to  aooompliah  her  vow,  religiously  consecrates  to  tha- 
Pacha,  bor  son,  a  couple  of  I'ams  and  the  afoi'esaid  Circaasian.  Izzet  c^uld  hardly 
with  pro|>riety  r  .'ject  this  materaal  present.  He,  therefore,  accepts  the  beaut; 
who  is  brought  to  him,  and  raises  her  to  the  rank  of  third  wife.  This  marriage  im 
celebrated  quietly  without  noise  or  scandal.  An  iman  and  two  witneeses 
enough  for  tae  ceremony. 



•'  Afl  to  the  lourtb  wife,  alie  too  may  very  possibly  fall  into  his  arms  hy  some 
tinlooked-for  circiimataiice.  Let  us  imat^ine.  for  example,  that  a  younger  brother 
of  Ixzet's  happens  to  die  leaving  hia  widow  inooneolable.  Izzet,  in  the  character 
of  an  elder  brother,  takes  her  into  hia  harem,  and  does  his  best  to  eonsole  her  by 
marrying  her.  True  enough,  wex^e  she  old  and  ugly  he  wowld  readily  transfer  to 
some  one  else  this  duty  of  fraternal  chai-ity, 

**  These  unions,  called  *  of  charity,'  ai-e  permitted,  and  even  recommended  by  the 
Koran.    Mai-riage  in  such  a  case  becomes  a  charity  like  any  other/' 

The  history  of  Izzet  and  Zerah  being  cODcluded,  there  are  two 
more  chapters  in  this  part  of  the  work,  one  upon  Mixed  Marriages, 
And  another  upon  Diplomatic  Polygamy*  They  are  both  extremely 
interestuig  as  signs  of  the  times.  When  a  building  is  cruiobling 
away,  and  the  owner  has  no  friends  to  build  it  anew,  his  only 
hope  is  in  patchwork  and  compromise ;  here  wc  find  some  contriv- 
ance to  keep  out  the  water,  there  a  clumsy  buttress  to  help  the 
tottering  foundation.  Never  was  a  religion  more  skilfully  framed 
for  a  proud  and  coiiqueriug  race  than  that  of  Islam.  Fraternity 
among  the  conquerors,  slavery  to  the  Giaour;  such  was  the  maxim 
of  the  Prophet.  But  this  harsh  condition  of  enslavement  was 
aflen  met  by  a  compromise.  If  a  whole  population  resisted  the 
dogmas  of  the  Koran,  they  were  permitted  to  retain  their  faitli 
upon  payment  of  a  certain  definite  tribute,  sometimes  exacted  in 
money,  not  imfrequently  in  kind.  None  but  the  brave  deserved 
Chiyseis  and  Briseis,  and  whether  they  had  them  as  captives  taken 
ia  war,  or  as  slaves  bought  with  money,  seemed  a  thing  of  tri\'ial 
import.  So  long  as  the  warrior  caste  was  taken  in  boyhood  to  battle, 
and  trained  early  to  martial  exercises,  the  effeminacy  of  an  offspring 
reared  in  the  vice  of  the  harera  was  avoided;— the  cross  liotween 
<;aptor  and  captive  proved  a  bmve  soldier.  But  when  civilization 
changed  the  state  of  things,  the  full  results  of  polygamy  were 
made  known,  not  only  in  the  utter  degradation  of  the  woman,  but  in 
the  sloth  and  profligacy  of  the  man.  A  life  of  excitement  had  its 
I  cotmterpart  in  a  Hfe  of  idleness.  Men  who  had  hved  upon  the  grati- 
fication of  savage  passions  were  unfit  to  become  the  sons  of  honest 
^toil*  Hence  the  old  saying,  which  centuries  has  proved  true, 
'  Wherever  the  hoof  of  the  SuUan  s  horse  treads  there  is  sterility." 
It  was  only  natm*al  that,  in  such  a  condition  of  affairs,  the  diplo- 
I  matic  corps,  composed  fur  the  most  part  of  enlightened  men,  and 
[always  of  men  of  honour  and  character,  should  have  tried  to  make 
l-Bome  change.  Conferences,  we  are  told,  have  been  held,  and  some 
ich  language  as  thiB  has  been  uttered.     Thus  speaks  the  Refonner : — 

■'Enlighteiifid  men  do  not  hesitate  to  a?ow  that  poljgamj  is  like  a  c4LQcer, 

ftting  into  and  destroying  our  social  sjstem.     To  rid  us  of  sncli  a  scoui-gt  is  the 

»ecial  work  of  a  patriot.     It  eliould  be  the  heaj-tfelt  wiali  of  every  MiiBsultnaii  to 

udertake  and  accomplish  it ;  for  the  ad^'autages — ^we  may  say.  the  blessings — 

irhich  result  from  monogamy  are  immense,  and  we  know  how  to  appreciate  them. 

Par  my  own  part,  I  eoula  heartily  wish  that  a  radical  reform  were  set  on  foot  in 

oar  social  system,  and  that  the  emancipation  of  woman  could  lead  to  the  abolition 

of  polygamy.      No  doubt  the  day  will  come  when  women  will  walk   unveiled 



througb  the  streets,  and  go  into  society,  as  thej  do  in  Europe ;  but,  alas  I  I  am 
old,  and  shaE  never  live  to  see  that  happy  day." 

It  appears,  indeed,  from  the  account  of  our  author,  that  not  many  \ 
years  ago  an  attempt  Avas  really  made,  without  changing  principles 
to  change  faahion,  and  while  adhering  to  the  old  laws  to  modify  their 
power.  There  can  be*  it  was  said,  no  difficulty  in  certain  persons,  if 
they  choose,  confining  themselves  to  a  single  wfe.  Some  of  the  moat 
important  personages  of  the  Empire  are  said  to  have  accepted  tliis 
reform,  wliich  turned  out,  upon  trial,  to  be  more  apparent  than  real, 
and  was  always  opposed  by  '*  the  faithful/'  Seveiul  distiiiguLahed 
diplomatcs,  it  is  said,  presented  their  Tnves,  ui  European  circles,  under 
names  hitherto  unknown — JIadame  R.,  Madame  F.,  &c,,  &c.  The 
new  converts  w^ere  received  graciously ;  visits  were  exchanged 
between  them  and  certain  ftimilies  at  Pera ;  the  advocates  of  mono- 
gamy were  the  objects  of  something  like  an  ovation  of  which,  it  ia  j 
said,  the  echo  extended  from  one  end  of  Europe  to  another.  A  more 
miserable  failure  can  scarcely  be  imagined ; — 

"  After  having  carried  out  the  first  part  of  their  plan,  the  modification  of  the 
practice,  these  oiploniates  did  not  hesitate  to  show  their  adherence  to  tbe  second—,  ^ 
to  wit,  their  adherence  to  the  juicient  principle  ;  and,  with  this  aim,  had  recourse  1 
to  an  expedient  which  enabled  each  of  them,  with  a  strict  regard  to  appearaneeg/l 
to  keep  up  the  old  eetablishment  of  fom'  wives.  Thus  eiu;h  of  them  iiUottedil 
to  himself  two  or  three  ivives,  wham  he  confided  in  tlie  care  of  certain  chosen  an<L| 
discreet  servants;  and,  ia  order  that  the  secret  might  be  the  better  kept,  instead  I 
of  keeping  these  ladios  in  the  same  place,  he  divided  them  between  severakl 
separate  establielimente/' 

A  few  words  upon  mixed  marriages  : — 

**  The  Koran  permits  a  Mussulman  t^.*  nian^  a  Christian ;  forhids  that  Moslent*^ 
women  should  be  joined  to  Cki'istian  husbands.  This  ena<3tmeiit  is  obvioualyJ 
for  the  purjiose  of  extendini^  thi'  niiinljerB  of  the  faithful ^  and  diminishing  tbosal 
of  the  Giaour  ;  for  thus  the  C/bristian  g^irl  becomes  the  mother  of  Moslems,  , 
while  by  no  probability  can  a  Moslem  mother  nm-ee  a  Christian  progeny.  # 

**TliiH  law  bears  the  seal  of  its  Semitic  origin,  in  the  sense  of  lowering  woman,  . 
w^ho  is  regarded  in  berself  as  but  a  little  cipher.  Woman,  in  her  husband's  view,' | 
is  but  a  field  ;  aud  in  this  way  a  Moslem  may  possess  Inmself  of  the  object  without* 
worrying  liiinsellf  as  to  its  produce.  As  a  field  can  have  neither  faith,  nor  intel* 
lect,  nor  will  of  its  own,  it  would  be  absurd  for  a  man  to  occupy  himself  abonti 
what  a  wo  man  believes,  thinks,  or  wishes.  She  is  absolute  ly  nothing  but  her  master'sl 
domain.  The  Moslem  thus  cultivates  it,  and  reaps  the  harvest;  for  the  hxu'Fest ' 
belongs  to  the  proprictoi-.  This  explains  why  the  iisaue  of  eueh  mai'riages  must  i 
be  ail  Moslems,  as  the  father  is,  both  giids  and  boys." 

It  has,  indeed,  been  at  all  times  an  unnsual  tbiiig  that  a  Clirii>tiaii| 
woman  shoidd  many  a  Moslem,  Sncli  instaiices  maybe  found,  no- 
doubt,  iu  the  case  of  some  great  man^a  SuUan  ura  Vizier;  but  it  was  , 
not  unnsnal  to  accompany  it  by  some  arrangement  for  allowing  thej 
lady  the  free  exercise  of  her  own  religion. 

Some  anecdotes  are  worth  recital,  detailing  the  miseries  which  bave^ 
more  than  once  occurred  to  Christian  ladies  of  good  birth  and  high  J 
character^  in  consequence  of  their  mamage  with  some  Turkish. 



**  While  X.  Pasha  was  in  occnpaiion  of  tho  Danubian  Principalities,  he  met,  ia  one 
of  the  beet  Uouaes  at  Bucharest,  a  joung  German  ladj  eoidowcd  witii  miimual 
beaut  J  and  accomplishments.  He  became  desperately  in  love,  and  succeeded  in 
obtaining  her  hand.  A  few  yeai's  later,  in  spite  of  the  oaths  and  protests  which 
had  been  made  to  her  in  abiindauce,  the  poor  lady  found  herself  one  fine  day  in 
the  street. 

**  We  learn  that  matters  fell  ont  in  this  wise :  X.  Pasha,  having  learnt  that  Y. 
Pasha  had  a  vei-y  lovely  daughter  of  sLtteen  of  the  name  of  Enunch,  becamci  a£ 
was  his  habit,  desperately  in  love  with  her,  and  thb  merely  by  hearing  the  de- 
BCnptioiL  of  her  astonishing  beauty.  Having  made  up  his  mind  tti  marry  her,  he 
became  alive  to  the  fact  that  the  young  German  lady  was  an  inciunbrance  in  his 
house.  Steps  must  be  taken  to  get  rid  of  her.  The  case  was  a  clear  one,  and  pre- 
sented no  difficulty.  He  was  at  that  very  time  in  the  Crimean  war  before 
SebastopoL  He  simply  called  his  aide-de-camp  to  him,  ^ve  him  a  few  lines  of 
dii^harge  for  his  wife,  with  peremptory  orders  to  turn  lier  out  of  duora  if  she 
made  the  least  resistance.  These  commands  were  carried  out  to  the  letter,  and 
from  that  time  the  unhappy  young  pers*ju  has  l>een  in  various  parts  of  the  world 
seeking  an  honoural>le  maintenance. 

**  Another  anecdote  is  borrowed  from  the  history  of  an  elderly  ambiissador  of 
Turkey^  H*  Effendi,  who  married  m  1870,  He  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
young  lady  of  good  family,  whom  he  sought  in  marriage*  and  whose  hand  was 
ubtaincMi  atfter  much  difficulty.  Diplomatists  are  apt  to  woo  skilfnlly,  cspeciallj 
when  their  merits  are  heightened  hy  an  official  tifle. 

**  There  was.  however,  one  obstacle  tc»  the  celebrati<:>n  of  this  maiTiage.  H.  Effendi 
had  already  a  wife  at  CJonstantinople — a  rehc  of  his  former  harem.  H.  intendedi 
however,  when  he  was  married,  to  reform  his  establishment,  for  the  lady  was  not 
»  perBon  who  could  put  up  with  polygamy,  even  of  a  diplomatic  kind.  The 
^  obfitiicle,  however,  was  not  verpr  serious.  Divorce  settled  the  matter,  and  the 
former  save  place  to  the  new  wife. 

•*  We  nave,  then,  the  young  bride  at  Constantinople  with  her  hnsV^and,  who, 
leaving  the  ancient  customs  and  prcjudiees  of  his  countiT",  sets  up  his  house,  and 
presents  BCadame  H,  in  European  costiime  to  scK-iety  at  large,  and  declares  himself 
an  apostle  of  the  harem  reform.  All  went  admirably  for  a  little  time,  when 
suddenly  Ali  Pacha  died.  He  happened  to  be  the  protector  of  H.  Effendi.  His 
influence  had  sustained  him  against  the  clamours  of  the  old-fashionetl  believers. 
In  a  very  few  days  H.  was  deprived  of  official  employment,  and  banished  to  Ama 

The  last  part  of  the  work  contains  interesting  chaptei-s-— one 
upon  Slavery  in  connection  with  tlie  Harem,  &c.;  another  on  the 
Seraglio,  On  both  of  these  we  shall  say  a  few  and  a  veiy  few  words. 
Domestic  slavery  is  the  logical  consequence  of  polygamy;  it  is  in  its 

'fiociai  aspect  a  badge  and  an  instrument  of  conquest  and  proselytism. 
The  English  public  are  apt  to  think  that  with  the  extinction  of 
filaverj'  ui  our  own  eulonieti  and  in  the  United  States  the  slavery 
question  is  really  at  an  end.     The  creed  of  Mahomet,  however,  though 

,  Tetrogressive  in  Europe  and  stationary  iu  Asia^  is  in  Africa  a  mission- 

I  arj"  and  prosely tilling  faith,  and  is  making  many  converts.  Indeed^  it 
may  be  questioned  whether,  taldng  the  vast  area  of  its  conquests  into 
our  view,  we  can  put  its  numbers  at  a  lower  figure  than  those  of  all 

'the  Christian  Churches  put  together.  At  Zanzibar,  although  we  suc- 
cessfully negotiated  fur  the  suppresKiuu  <jf  predial  slavery,  England 
was  obUged  to  subiuit  to  the  continuance  of  domestic  slavery. 

Two  of  the  points  in  which  domestic  slavery  seems  morally  nnr»rc  to 
be  condemned  than  predial  is,  fii'st,  the  mode  of  its  recruitment,  and 
BecondIy»  the  objects  for  which  it  is  kept  up.  It  is  unquestionable  that 
in  the  provinces  of  Asia  Minor  the  harems  of  the  wealthy  are  supplied 



by  children  kidnapped  from  the  CSrcassiau  and  other  nations  who, 
in  their  turn,  have  been  grafted  into  the  bands  of  true  believers. 
"^^Tien  we  consider  the  vast  snccees  of  this  great  reh'gious  body  we 
own  ourselves  deeply  impressed  not  only  by  the  extraordinary  wisdom 
but  even  by  a  certain  grandeur  in  the  aims  of  the  Prophet,  Demo- 
cracy and  Btrict  equality  before  the  la^v  are  the  very  liasis  of  the 
Moslem  creed.  Impressed,  no  doubt,  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Jewish 
lawgiv^er,  Btill  more  imprcBsed  with  the  divine  maxims  of  the  Gospel, 
Mahometj  like  the  unjust  steward,  of  whom,  for  aught  w^e  know,  he 
may  be  a  true  tj^pe,  knew  how  to  steal  just  so  much  of  his  masters 
goods  as  suited  his  ow^l  purpose  and  to  leave  the  rest  untouched. 
Like  Christianity,  Islamism  is  confined  to  no  part  of  the  world,  to  no 
sect  or  nation  i — 

**  Asiatics,  Africans,  Eiii^opeana,  Arabs,  Moorat  Turks,  black  people,  white 
people,  mixed  races,  all  are  imited  in  faith  in  the  one  true  God  and  hia  servant 
Manomet.  They  have  but  to  prouotince  the  holy  formida.  La  Allah,  Ola  Allah,  to 
become  all  hretlireiL  and  compatriots.  Slaves  are  not  excluded  from  this  vast 
family,  of  which  the  Koran  ia  the  law  and  equality  the  lule.  The  slave  of  yester- 
day may  become  in  the  name  of  the  Pi*ophet  the  brother  and  compatriot  of  his 
master.  Thus  we  sec  how  easy  it  became  for  the  slave  to  put  up  with  his  lot  and 
enrol  himself  in  the  hand  of  faithful  believers. 

**  To  facilitjite,  even  ia  larger  measure^  the  fusion  of  slaves  in  the  mass  of  bis 
diacip lea,  Mahomet  tiTc»k  care  to  proscnhe  as  an  imperative  dutj  upon  the  possessors 
of  slaves,  that  they  shoidd  treat  with  gentleness  and  considei'ation  those  whi.mi 
fortune  had  entrusted  to  their  keeping.  'These  unhappy  creatures/  lie  adds, 
*  ahoidd  be  looked  upon  l>y  them  as  their  own  chikben,  for  whom  they  are  respon- 
sible before  God,' 

"  All  these  plans  for  the  welfare  of  the  slave  have  evidently  but  one  aim — 
proselytiam,- — i.e.,  the  absorptiou  of  the  slaves  into  the  body  of  believers;  but  as  this 
absorption  cumot  be  completed  exceiit  through  the  enfranchisement  of  the  slave, 
Mahomet  was  emphatic  in  deelannf^  that  one  of  the  most  meritorious  detids  a 
Mussulman  could  accomplish  would  be  the  emancipation  of  the  slave  who  had 
giYeJk  proof  of  his  devotion  and  fidelity  to  his  master.** 

The  following  passage  strikes  us  as  specially  cliaracteristic : — 

"Ever  treated  with  himianity,  according  to  the  precepts  of  the  Koran,  the  few 
years  of  slavery  they  were  obliged  to  submit  to  were  to  them  only  a  sort  of 
apprenticeship,  dining'  which  their  capacity  was  brought  to  light.  Emancipation 
followed,  permitting  sind  giving  to  each  full  scope  to  acquire  wealth,  dignity,  and 

"  Tlie  history  of  the  Ottoman  Empire  shows  with  what  succcbs  the  Moslem 
people  made  use  of  slavery  to  promote  their  conquests,  and  in  the  interests,  too^  of 
the  slaves  themselves,  who  became  their  chief  auxiHai'ies.  I  wtJI  quote,  as  my  first 
eiample,  that  Order  of  Janissaries  whoee  courage  and  Lxploits  caused  the  whole 
world  to  tremble.  These  troops  were  at  first  recruited  among  the  slaves  who  wore 
captured  in  their  eoidy  wars.  Shall  we  spt^ak  of  the  chiefs  and  great  dignitaries 
of  the  i-mpire  ?  A  good  many  of  those  whose  names  are  w-ritten  on  the  page  of 
history  have  come  forth  fitim  the  ranks  of  emancipated  elaves.  As  to  the  Mama- 
louks,  evei7lxH3y  knows  that  these  rulers  of  Egypt  were  but  the  enfranchised 
slaves  who  administered  this  province  in  the  name  of  the  Sultan.**  | 

Lookmg  back,  then,  npon  history,  we  may  truly  say  that  conquest 
has  always  been  to  the  Turk,  and  is  even  in  the  present  degenerate 
days,  the  means  of  supply  and  the  tempting  bait  to  increase  the 
number  of  domestic  slaves.  Once  procured  tliey  become  the  most 
active  agents  m  propagating  the  system  of  which  they  are  an  inte- 



gral  unit.  The  cross  breeds  brought  into  the  world  by  this  agency 
have  ever  been  among  the  world's  best  eoldiei's  and  not  the  least  wise 
of  its  rulers.  All  the  males  belong  to  the  class  of  proselytizing  warriors 
— while  the  women,  bearing  children  and  staying  in  the  penetralia  of  a 
filthy  home,  become  the  degraded  objects  of  their  master's  degraded 
affections.  Such  is  the  mixture  of  good  vni\\  cHl  in  this  extraordinary 
religion.  If  it  be  said,  as  it  has  been,  indeed,  by  a  late  writer  in  the 
Quarterly  Review^  that  we  have  in  the  Koran  itself  and  in  its  most 
rerered  interpretation,  a  basis  broad  enough  for  the  construction 
of  a  system  of  civn^l  and  social  equality,  though  never  so  absolute, 
without  fear  of  it  exceeding  by  a  single  hairbreadth  the  approved 
orthodoxy  of  Islam, — -our  answer  is,  Quite  true,  as  concerns  civ^il  and 
poUtical  rights  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  them  ;  quite  true  if  you  were 
epeaking  of  any  other  country  except  Turkey ;  but  remember  that 
social  and  family  rights  are  prior  in  order  of  time,  aud  of  infinitely 
greater  importance  than  the  artificial  systems  of  government  by 
political  bodies.  The  spark  of  liberty  is  first  kindled  on  the  family 
hearthstone;  it  is  in  the  mother's  heart  that  is  kid  the  strong  founda- 
tion of  virtne,  in  the  hope  that  her  male  child  may  be,  if  not  great, 
good  and  honest,  if  not  a  patriot  at  least  an  honourable  citizen.  But 
where  woman  is  looked  upon  as  a  field  and  not  as  a  person  this  can 
never  be:  where  the  foundation  of  the  family  is  rotten,  any  poUtical 
edifice  raised  thereon  is  but  a  house  built  upon  the  sand.     Strange  to 

I  flay,  able  writers  such  as  those  in  the  Pali  Mull  Gazette,  or  Baker  in  his 

,  work  on  Turkey^  or  the  author  of  a  very  learned  article  in  the  Qnarterly 
Rertiew  on  the  Revival  of  Turkey,  never  so  much  as  glance  at  this  ques- 
tion, which  ha  the  mind  of  sound  thinkers  ought  to  have  priority  over 
all  others. 

Were   the   question  of  Turk  and   Christian   any   mere   dogmatic 
difference  our  hopes  would  indeed  rise.     Christians  a  couple  of  hmidred 

[  jears  ago  could  not  hve  together.  The  differences  between  Protestant 
and  Papist  were  most  serious,  and  the  perversion  of  all  patriotic  feeling 
implied  in  the  captivating  fallacy,  "  I  am  a  Catholic  first  and  an 
£ngUshman   afterwards,''  threw  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an 

I  enlightened  toleration*  These  have  been  only  overcome  by  the  prac- 
tical wisdom  of  Englishmen  remembering,  whatever  theory  they  may 
hold,  that  they  are  in  practice  before  everything,  and  above  every- 

1  thing,  EngKshmen, — that  dogma  must  yield  to  duty* ;  but  the  difference 
between  the  Komn  and  the  Bible  is  far  deeper  than  that  between  any 
two  or  more  portions  of  a  Church,  which,  whatever  differences  may 
divide  it,  is  in  its  essence  one,  and  one  for  this  simple  and  potent 
reason  that  it  holds  the  Decalogue  in  the  Old^  and  the  Sermon  on  the 
Blount  in  the  New,  Testament,  these  and  these  alone,  to  be  the  charter  of 
the  moral  law,    Christianity  must  stand  or  fall  with  its  denunciation 

of  slavery  and  polygamy,    Islam  not  only  admits  but  eocourages  both. 
To  sum  up  an  argument,  these  two  dreadful  enemies  to  human 



happinees  and  ^drtae  are  engendered  in  blood-stained  fields,  by  the^ 
courage  of  man  and  ntter  Bubmissiou  of  woman.     They  spread  rotten-' 
nese  aroimd  whenever  they  come  in  contact  with  the  growth  and  civi-'^ 
lizatiou  of  Christianity. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  laet  chapter  of  our  Uttle  book,  that  on  the 
Seragho,  the  domestic  estabUshment  of  the  Sultan. 

Fm  est  et  ab  hoste  docere.  And  here  we  cannot  help  borrowing  from 
the  learned  writer  in  the  Quarterhf  on  the  Revival,  to  whom  we  have 
previously  alluded,  a  few  words  Avhich  appear  to  us  strictly  to  refer  to' 
this  part  of  the  subject,  Happy  indeed  are  we,  and  shall  always  be, 
to  give  pronunence,  not  to  those  points  on  which  we  differ  but  to 
those  on  which  we  are  at  one  :— 

**rii'8ttlit?ii/*  8a jB  theaiitlior,  in  entering  upon  tlie  cooiplox  and  interesting  sub-^ 
ject  of  Turkifcih  reform,  **a  word  regardinj^  the  imperial  pilace  itaelf.     Let  ite  in-" 
dwellers  call  to  miud  tliat  all  tlie  great  mouareliB  who,  during  three  centimes  and 
a-half  of  vigour  unparalleled  in  any  other  recorded  dynasty,  built  up  and  consoli- 
dated the  mighty  empire  which  two  centiu'ies  following  of  tlie  unremitting  hostility 
of  Rosaia  and  her  allies  have  not  yet  prtn^ailed  to  destroy,  were,  without  exception,  ^^ 
not  immured  in  dark  seraglio  recesaeSp  thence  tti  he  dragged  foiiJi  to  face,  all  at 
once  with  dazed  eyeSt  the  hixwid  light  of  day  and  the  splendom  of  a  thi-one,  but 
were  brought  up  troin  theii"  earliest  years  in  the  busiest  tin-moil  of  aetive  life, 
commanders  of  armies,  gt^vernoi-s  of  provinces,  vicegerents  of  empires.      With: 
Ahmed  I.,  the  first  called^  in  1603,  from  the  imprisonment  of  the  Kawah,  that  fatal. 
pala<;e  ciige,  to  gird  on  the  tjrpical  eword  of  empire,  commenced  the  progressive 
enfeeblement,  spite  of  a  few  noble  exceptions,  ot  the  old  Sultan  type  in  the  family  *| 
of  Othman,  If,  then,  that  family  would  not  utterly  pemh  it  must  return  to  the  habits « 
of  better  days.   Nor  is  it  for  them  a  necessity  merely  of  self-preservation  ;  t  he  empire 
is  at  stake.     '  Balooh  hashden  kokar,*  the  tish  rots  from  the  head  doi^Tiwai-ds,  says^ 
the  homely  Turkish  proverb.     In  Turkish  rule  the  Sultan  will  always  be,  not/ 1 
nominally  only,  but  in  very  fact*  the  head,  and  on  his  personal  qualifications  for 
the  poet  he  occupies  much  will  depend,  if  not  all.'* 

These,  indeed,  are  trne  and  eloquent  words,  but  it  is  equally  true 
that  the  palace,  up  to  a  late  period,  has  beeriy  and  still  is,  the  very 
centre  of  cormption  :— 

**  The  harem  of  the  Sid  tan  has  been  from  all  time  a  separate  establishment,  A 
completely  distinct  from  the  social  body  of  which  it  is  the  keystone.     It  is  admi-*! 
rably  adapted  to  the  religious  and  politiciil  principles  which  sustain  the  great  jJ 
Ottoman  empire.     The  Sultan,  in  this  empire,  is  all  hut  a  divine  personage,  placed  j. J 
at  an  incDnceivahle  height  above  the  heads  of  his  subjects.     Between  him  and  1 
them  thei'e  are  no  intermediate^  grades.      If  fmm  the  elevation  of  his  solitary  J 
grandetir  he  were  to  cast  his  eyes  uptjn  any  woman  who  was  his  subject,  he  could  . 
not  raise  her  to  his  own  level  without  compromising  his  sacred  dignity,  for  an 
alliance  between  a  aubject  and  the  Vicar  of  the  Prophet  would  be  thought  a  stain.  ^ 
Moreover,  State  reasons,  in  the  East  as  in  the  West,  are  opposed  to  such  marriagea  ^ 
^-sources  of  danger  to  order  and  to  the  maintenance  of  dynasties. 

**  The  h<:)uri8  nL»t  being  able  to  descend  from  the  sky  and  place  themselves  at  the  ' 
ordera  of  the  Padischah,  nor  the  women  uf  the  people  to  rise  to  his  level,  it  laecame  | 
neoeaaary  in  order  to  marry  the  Sultans  to  have  recourse  to  some  middle  term, 
Thie,  in  tact,  has  been  done,  and  IJie  harem  has  been  furnished  whh  foreign  slaves,' 
who  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  nation  at  large  than  with  heaven.'* 

The  women  of  the  seragho  are  then  strictly  a  caste  and  all  slavefl ;/ 
even  their  dialect  ia  their  own.  A  lady  belonging  to  this  exclusive  society 
has  but  to  open  her  mouth  to  be  immediately  recognized.    The  eeraglio, 
which  is  the  usual  residence  of  the  Sultan,  is  a  palace  about  four  times 



BB  large  ae  that  of  an  ordinary  European  potentate,  just  as  his  revenue 
amounte  to  about  four  times  a8  much  as  the  civil  hst  of  Her  ilajeety 
Queen  Victoria,  Three-fourths  of  the  vast  space  are  devoted  to  the 
penetraha— the  female  department,  wliile  the  court  rooms  are  only  a 
sort  of  annex  to  the  rest  of  the  building.  Between  the  court  rooms  and 
the  harem  there  is  an  immense  reception  room,  used  only  on  great 
ceremonial  occasions.  The  seraglio  contains  a  phalanx  of  Georgian, 
Greek,  and  Circassian  slaves,  all  bought  at  an  early  age. 

We  are  first  of  all  startled  by  the  fact  that  the  sultana  who  plays 
the  leading  part  is  not  the  wife  but  the  mother  of  the  Snltan. 

The  following  is  a  sketch  of  the  estabUshment  taken  from  our 
authority  :*— 

'•  1,  The  Siiltana  Talide,  Mother  of  the  Saltan. 

**  2.  The  Hasxiadar  Otista,  Mistress  of  the  Ti'easm*e. 

*'  3.  The  Bach  Kadiue  (first  of  the  Sultanas  wives),  second,  third,  and  fonrth 

ditto,  &.C. 
**4,  The  Badi  Ikbal  (first  favourite  of  His  Majesty),  second,  third,  and  fourth* 

ditto,  &c. 
"  5.  The  Guienzdis.    Those  yoimg  ladies  who  aspii'e  to  His  Majesty's  favour, 
*'  6.  The  Kadines  Effendia  (MotherB  of  Princes  and  Princesses). 
"  7,  TJumarried  Princesses. 

•'  £a<?h  of  these  Saltanas  and  gj*eat  ladies  possesses  on  her  own  hehalE  a  speoilii 
little  court  of  her  own  named  *  Duira/  and  consisting  of  ladies  of  her  aiiite.     In 
order  to  show  npc»n  what  footing  these  courts  in  miniatmre  are  organized,  we  will 
give  here  the  detail  of  the  surroundings  of  the  Sultana  Valide.     AH  others  ai*© 
miter  the  same  model,  th<»iigh  of  course  upon  a  reduced  senile. 
*^  Her  Treasurer. 
**  Her  First  Secretary. 
*'  Her  Keeper  of  the  Seals. 
'*  Hei'  First  Lady,  to  pour  out  coffee. 
**  Her  Second  ditto,  to  offer  it. 
*•  Her  Lady  to  offer  sherbet. 
In  all  a  do'zen  of  great  ladies  witli  the  title  of  Kalfa,  Mistress.    Each  of  these 
miBtreBses  has  under  her  ordei-s  a   certain  number  of   young  pupils  who  ai*c 
caDed  "alaikes;*  hence  these  alaikes,  of  the  ages  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  at 
the  utmost^  are  the  lowest  grade  of  the  hierarchy. 

•*  Thev  participate  in  the  titles  and  position  of  the  KaH a  to  whom  they  are 
attached.  As  ah  the  KaJfas  have  five  or  six  of  these  jonng  slaves,  it  appears 
that  the  ladies  attached  to  the  Valide  have  altogether  something  like  sixty  shiTes, 
and  that  the  court  of  Her  Imperial  Highness  includes  something  like  seventy-fiTe 
women  of  all  ages.^* 

The  court  of  the  first  Sultana,  though  similar  in  its  general  con- 
Btitution  to  that  of  the  other  ladies,  is,  no  doubt,  much  more 

"Nevertheless  fifteen  different  establishmenta  multiplie4  by  twenty  ^ive  a  total 
of  three  hundred  women,  and  if  we  add  to  this  the  seventy- five  belonging  to  the 
Sultana  Mother,  we  arrive  at  a  t^jtaJ  of  three  hundred  and  seventy-tivcj  in  ixumd 
numbers  four  hundred  women,  who  constitute  the  seraglio." 

We  trouble  the  reader  with  the^e  details  because  they  appear  to  ub 
to  Ue  at  the  root  of  the  Turkish  question,  and  tu  show  that  it  is 
rather  a  social  than  a  poUtical  evil  which  is  killing  the  Sick  ilan. 

To  mention  one  only  of  the  manifold  ills  of  this  uatuix^  which  aiise 
from  polygamy,  the  confusion  into  which  inheritances  fall :  the  eldest 
8on  of  Uie  &cBt  wife — to  use  a  legal  phrase — takes  under  the  Turkish 



law,  but  she,  poor  ladj,  long  Bince  foi'gotteD,has  become  a  mere  piece 
of  lumber,  or,  it  may  be,  lias  been  divorced.  The  real  favourite  with 
the  father  is  the  child  of  his  old  age,  the  sod,  perhaps,  of  the  laBt  wife. 
The  object  then  is  to  get  all  the  others  out  of  the  %vay  by  expiikiou 
or  banishment.  At  the  father  s  death,  if  alive,  they  return,  aud  then 
begins  a  source  of  futile  and  endless  litigation^  in  which  those  usually 
win  who  have  most  ready  money, 

**  The  hi^li  dignity  of  the  Yalide  Sultana  corresponds  with  that  of  Empress  or 
Queen  in  the  couiitnee  of  Exu-ope,  Bxit  whj,  it  is  said,  have  not  the  Sultans  them- 
selTes  taken  up  the  notion  of  aharing  the  splendoura  of  their  throne,  as  is  the 
case  in  other  monarchies,  with  one  of  their  wives,  or  at  least  one  of  their  fai^ountes? 
No  doubt  many  of  these  princes  have  thought  about  it.  The  one  great  obstacle 
in  a  reformation  which  would  have  had  the  eifect  of  placing  their  well- beloved 
upon  a  level  with  the  other  cniwned  heads  of  EmY>pe  is  simplj  the  diffieidty  of 
making  a  choice.  '  Between  two  the  heart  is  divided/  says  the  proverb,  but 
between  three  or  four  what  must  be  its  sensations  ?  The  fears  of  imtating  livalg 
removed  from  the  throne  would  doubtless  have  but  feeble  weight  in  the  mind  of 
an  all-powerful  sovereign,  possessed  of  summai*y  and  expeditious  means  of  repres- 
sion. The  real  difficulty  is  rather  to  be  sought  in  the  disposition  of  the  master 
himself.  Inconstant  by  nature,  by  habit,  and  hy  duty,  how  could  he  briug  him- 
self to  fix,  by  a  choice  definite  and  iiTevocablct  upon  her  who  shoidd  wear  the 
crown,  and  tkeneefurwai'd  figiue  in  the  Gotha  Almanac  as  Empress  of  Tiu'key  ? 
Nor  ought  we  ft*  forget  that  sneh  triumph  on  the  part  of  a  woman  would  be  a 
manifest  violation  of  the  Koran,  which  rc^quii'cs  perfect  equal  it j  of  treatment, 
regard,  and  affection  between  the  wives  of  one  and  the  same  husband/' 

Next  to  the  Valide  Sultana,  as  a  pereonage  of  dignity  and  note 
in  the  eeragUo,  comes  the  Hasnadar  Oust^*  She  superintends  the 
whole  domestic  arrangements  uf  this  vast  interior,  and,  in  case  the 
Sultan  should  have  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  mother,  becomes,  by  a 
tradition  which  has  all  the  force  of  law,  the  fii-st  lady  in  this  magnifi- 
cent estabhshment. 

'*  In  the  exercise  of  this  lofty  influence,  which  extends  beyond  the  walla  of  the 
palace  itself*  this  high  official  not  nnfrequently  goes  beyi>nd  her  just  limits.  Thue  . 
the  haanadai"  who  succeeded  the  mother  of  the  SuJtan  Abdul  Medjid  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Imperial  harem  marked  the  time  of  her  ride  by  a  shameful  tolemtiou 
of  all  the  abuses  of  that  sad  time.  Instead  of  putting  some  control  over  the 
exceaees  of  vice  and  diBsipation,  she  on  the  contrary  gave  them  rein  by  relaxing 
the  constraints  of  a  wise  discipline.  Such  was  the  part  she  took  in  the  embezzle- 
ment of  the  public  treasure  that  her  first  IMhulp,  her  eonlidunt  and  factotum, 
saved  for  himself  alone  a  fortime  of  between  seven  and  ei^ht  millions  of  francs. 
This  baltadji  henceforward  was  transformed  into  a  sort  of  little  potentate,  before 
whom  all  the  ministers,  and  specially  the  Finance  itinister,  were  ready  to  bow 
their  heads.*' 

Our  author  passes  in  interesting  review,  relieved  by  graphic  and 
frequent  anecdote,  the  different  grades  of  womeu  who  go  to  make  up 
the  whole  we  have  just  now  desorihed : — 

"The  first  step  wliieh  separates  the  common  herd  of  slaves  from  those  who  are 
called  upon  to  scale  the  slipi^ry  ladder  of  Imiierial  favour  is  the  class  of 
*  Gnienzdis/  a  word  which  means  young  hidies  under  the  eye,  thus  called  liccauae, 
acoording  to  an  expression  as  common  in  Turkey  as  in  Europe,  they  arc  brought 
under  the  eye  of  the  Sultan,** 

Time  fails  iis  to  tell  how  theee  poor  young  creatures  are  brought , 
'* under  the  eye'*  of  their  master.     The  slightest  word  of  favour,  the' 



most  trivial  remark  on  the  part  of  this  august  being,  is  sufficient  to 
raiae  the  slave  girl  into  a  young  lady. 

**  The  Snltajia  Mother,  or  the  lady  whom  the  Sultan  is  happening  to  visit,  is  per- 
fecUy  awoi'e  of  her  duty  in  such  a  case.  By  a  gesture  ehe  informs  the  8la?e  that 
she  ma^  approaoh  and  kise  the  fringe  of  the  diran  on  which  the  sacred  i>er8on  of 
biB  Miijesty  ia  seated.  Alter  this  offieial  preaentatiou  the  proung  lad^  is  called 
guieiu&dit  and  immediatelj  quita  the  eatabUahment  of  her  mistress  to  inhabit  an 
apartment  of  her  own. 

"  From  this  situation  to  that  of  *  Ikhal/  or  favourite,  the  transition  is  natural  and 
easy.  If  the  Sultan  expresses  himself  well  satisfied  with  his  new  aoqtiisition,  the 
guienzdi  takes  the  title  of  ikbal,  a  position  officially  recognized,  and  to  which  a 
monthly  salary  is  ai^'arded,  with  the  honoitr  of  a  separate  attendance  and  estab- 

Each  department  of  the  harem  is  treated  with  great  detail,  and  with 
that  graphic  accuracy  which  is  a  seal  of  truth.  We  wish  it  were 
possible  to  give  the  connected  whole  : — 

"Next  to  the  guienzdia,  or  young  ladies  under  the  Sultan's  eye,  come  the 
*  Kadines/  or  *  acknowletlged  wives  * — I  will  not  say  legal,  simply  acknowledged, 
for  the  Sultans  have  never  had  lawful  wives  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Koran  eaUs 
them  lawful.  They,  indeed,  as  vicars  and  suceessors  of  the  Prophet,  should  have 
been  the  first  to  conjform  to  his  holy  law,  Tbey  have,  however,  always  been  of 
opinion  that  they  could  dispense  with  all  legal  forms,  and  do  without  either 
witnesses  or  mai'riage  contract.  Their  decLiration  is  sufficient  to  prove  that  any 
woman  is  their  wife. 

"  In  suppressing  for  themselves  legal  marriage  they  have  also  suppressed 
divorce.  Nothing  could  be  more  reasonable,  for  there  can  l>e  no  divorce  where 
there  was  no  marriage.  Besides,  the  principles  of  the  Ottoman  court  are  opposed 
to  a  woman  united  once  to  the  sublime  Padischafa,  the  rpjoresentative  of  Gkid  upon 
earth,  being  able  to  remarry  with  a  simple  mortaL  On  the  other  hand,  who 
would  be  impious  enough  to  commit  such  a  crime  P 

"  These  women  are  domiciled  for  life  in  the  seraglio.  Their  exiatence  is  not 
perhaps  so  monotonous  as  some  would  suppose.  The  education  of  their  children, 
if  they  have  any,  constmiee  a  groat  deal  of  their  time.  Their  dress  too,  their 
walks,  their  domestic  duties  occupy  them.  Then  we  have  pohtics  and  intngiie, 
for  the  harem,  as  may  well  be  supposed,  is  always  the  very  eeotre  of  intrigue.  If 
any  of  them  should  be  the  mother  of  a  little  boy,  she  constantly  sees,  as  in  a 
mirror,  the  image  of  her  child  seated  on  the  throne  by  her  own  side,  while  she  is 
the  recognized  Valide  Sultana. 

**  Bach  yotmg  mother,  and  those  who  surround  her,  then  form  a  cligue,  who  act 
day  and  night  in  the  interest  of  the  little  prince.  He  becomes  an  iclol  to  them, 
and  is  overwhelmed  by  their  care  and  tenderness;  their  affection  for  htm  is  some- 
thing in  its  essence  jjuite  special.  *  Arsleem,'  *  young  lion's  cnVC  is  the  favourite 
name  by  which  the  imperial  infant  is  saluted.  The  Sultan,  being  the  lion  of  lions, 
a  Kadine  will  always  take  care  to  call  her  son  *  my  dear  little  lion's  whelp.'  Any 
other  phrase  would  violate  court  dignity  and  etiquette." 

We  well  know,  even  in  civihzed  Europe,  how  the  luxury,  aud  self- 
esteem,  and  fashion  of  a  Court  render  Court-life  acceptable  to  the 
majority  among  us.  Many  people  will  very  naturally  suppose  that  life 
in  the  Seraglio  may  be  exceedingly  comfortable*  An  anecdote  which 
our  author  recounts,  proves  the  reverse.  We  may  remark  en  passant 
that  nothing  can  be  more  piquant  than  many  of  these  anecdotes, 
scattered  up  and  down  the  pages  of  the  book : — 

"  I  was/'  says  the  author,  **  formerly  very  intimate  with  a  certain  FazU  Bey,  whose 
wife  was  the  sister  of  the  second  Kadine.  My  friend  Fazli  then  found  himself  the 
"brother-in-law  of  the  Sultan — -no  small  honour,  but  one  from  which  he  gained 
little  advantage,  for  he  was  always  full  of  embarrassments.  His  wife,  a  person  of 
intelUgenee  and  active  habits,  found  means  to  carry  on  her  household,  thanks  to 



the  frequent  visits  she  was  in  the  habit  of  making  to  her  eiBter,  the  Kadine,  who 
always  s^nt  her  home  with  pockets  very  full.  One  day  my  mother  and  I  were  the 
witnes8t*s  of  a  strange  scene  which  took  place  at  her  hoxiee.  Fazli's  wife,  who 
had  paid  a  visit  in  the  monung  to  the  weraglio,  came  b:iek  quite  overcome  and 
trembling.  We  ran  to  meet  her,  being  impatient  to  leam  the  result  of  a  pro- 
oeedingr  whieh  she  had  intended  to  take  with  regard  to  her  sister.  She  did  not 
make  lis  wait  long,  and  had  scarcely  uncovered  her  veil  liefore  ehe  exclaimed — 

'*  •  The  Kadine  Effendi  refuses  to  sec  them.  Never,  she  says,  can  she  receive 
a  father  and  mother  wbti  sold  her.  She  has.  however,  aent  them  a  small  present 
(in  isham)  to  enable  them  to  go  back  to  Circassian 

"This was  the  answer  of  the  Kadine  to  the  petition  of  her  sister  in  favour  of 
her  father  and  mother,  who  had  recently  come  from  the  country  to  solicit  some 
charitable  aid," 

It  IB  natural  to  ask  what  becomes  of  these  queens,  or  ka dines,  aftex 

tlie  death  of  their  husbands,  and  to  this  imtural  question  we  have  a 

very  explicit  reply,  which  it  seems  worth  "while  to  translate  ;— 

**  Scarcely  baa  the  Sultan  drawn  his  last  breath,  when  his  wives,  his  favonritea, 
in  short,  all  the  women  whose  mwer  is  now  at  an  end,  are  desired  to  V*  *off  * 
within  f»>ur-and.twenty  huurs.  This  change  of  scene  is  a  veritalde  rout.  It  may 
rather  l^e  compai'ed  to  a  shipwreck*  when  each  passenger  tries  to  lay  hold  of 
some  means  of  safety,  by  which  ehe  may  float  on  the  surface,  and  may  be  pre- 
vented I'roiji  sinking  into  the  deep,  where  all  :u:"e  forgotten — that  is  to  say,  the 
depth  of  tlie  Old  Seraglio.  Thither  are  transferred  those  of  the  kadines  and 
fiu^onrites  whom  their  steiility  had  already  condemned.  Those  who  are  mothera 
alone  are  allotted  the  protection  of  the  imperial  palace,  for  re-asons  of  State  make 
it  imad\  isable  that  they  should  be  removed  from  the  superintendence  of  the  heir 
of  the  empire.  As  to  the  other  ladies,  they  must  di8ap|>ear  with  their  slaves  and 
female  attendants,  although,  perhaps,  there  may  ha  some  among  the  latter  who, 
thanks  to  fresh  pati'onage,  find  the  means  of  lodging  themselves  in  the  liitl© 
female  coimts  whicli  are  formed  upon  the  old  ones, 

'*  The  Old  Semglio,  situated  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  Palace,  is  a  sad  and 
lugubrious  building,  a  very  tomb,  where  human  ht^ings  are  buried  alive.  Lmagina 
a  mediaeval  castle,  mtli  it«  lofty  crenelated  walls  and  its  nanow  windoTs^Si  the 
whole  sun'ouuded  by  a  thick  and  dark  mass  of  aiicient  cjyreases;  one  may  then 
perhaps  form  a  correct  idea  of  the  retreat  which,  aa  iu  a  prison,  coniinea  the  faLlen 
goddesses  of  the  harem. 

*'  Beyond  the  ajDartmenta  destined  to  the  ladies,  the  Old  Seraglio  also  contain* 
a  number  of  buildings ;  among  which  may  be  reckoned  the  Imperial  Treasury, 
the  Lihrary^  the  Mijsquc  which  contains  such  rehcs  as  the  Standai'd  of  tho 
Prophet,  his  beard,  &c>  There  is  it,  under  the  shadow  of  these  rehgiLJUSBouvtmirs, 
that  the  poor  abandoned  beauties  of  a  formeT  Ottoman  couil  have  to  submit  to 
the  most  severe  seehision.  Theii'  goings  in  and  out  are  conhned  to  what  i« 
strictly  necessary,  and  their  relations  with  the  world  stnctly  watched.  Such  ar«^ 
the  suspicions  of  their  new  sovereign,  which  cause  them  doubtless  to  regret 
the  uncertain  affection  of  their  defunct  husband.  Poor  souls,  thus  placed  between  , 
the  jealousy  ol  the  dead  and  the  living  1  But  reasons  of  State  ca-nnot  listen  to  th© 
dictat<^B  of  the  heart.  Each  Sultan  looks  upon  himself  as  the  respmsibl^ 
guardian  of  the  hom>ur  of  his  predecossoi's,  and  in  this  capacity  he  is  botind  to 
take  care  that  the  widows  of  these  princes  (or  whatever  their  title  may  be)  should 
be  subject  to  strict  and  watchful  supervision, 

*'  Til  is  seclusion,  however,  is  not  for  life,  and  with  time  the  Jailor  shows  himseJi 
more  comphicent,  and  relaxes  in  some  degree  the  severity  of  his  watch.  Thi^  I 
indvdgence  is  not  shown  until  those  who  are  thus  confined  have  pass^^d  the  perioi  i 
of  temptiition.  It  is  when  the  amiable  Kadine  has  reached  her  fiftieth  year  that  ' 
the  reigning  Sultan  places  at  her  disposal  one  of  the  royal  residences,  and  begi  i 
her  to  act  as  she  pleases.  * 

**  As  to  the  Sultan  Abdul  Aziz,  it  is  said  that  he  was  exceedingly  severe  witl| 
regard  to  the  women  who  belonged  to  the  court  of  his  brother  and  predecessor, 
Abdul  Medjid.  It  is  even  whispered  tliat  some  of  these  Ladies,  the  Kadine^ 
Servinajss,  for  instance,  were  sent  by  his  order,  not  indeed  into  the  Old  Seciglio,  bni  j 
into  that  better  world  wherci  perhaps,  their  premature  death  may  in  somf  | 
measure  expiate  the  excesses  oJE  every  kind  committed  by  them  during  the  I'^igll  1 
of  Abdul  Medjid/*  ^ 


The  Sultanas  or  nmnanied  daughtera  do  not  merit  much  notioe. 
We  observe  one  omission,  however,  in  this  work ;  little  is  said  on 
the  subject  of  the  male  education  received  within  the  walls  of 
the  seraglio.  The  lady  secretaries,  too,  receive  very  brief  notice. 
To  the  wet-nurses  a  much  longer  chapter  is  devoted.  We  mention 
these  points  because,  as  it  seems  to  us,  they  show  what  domestic 
slavery  in  the  East  really  is,  and  shed  fresh  light  upon  Oriental 
manners.  The  tie  of  foster-brother  and  foster-sister  is  considered  in 
Turkey  to  be  one  of  the  closest,  and  the  duties  of  maternity  are 
discharged,  according  to  Turkish  notions,  almost  in  a  fuller  sense 
by  her  who  nourishes  than  by  her  who  bears  the  child.  The  wet- 
nurse  with  her  progeny,  therefore,  always  takes  rank  in  the  family  of 
those  whom  she  has  nursed.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  it  is  not  permitted 
to  any  Turkish  free-bom  subject  to  enter  the  seraglio,  when  a  wet- 
nurae  is  wanted,  a  Circassian  slave  must  be  bought  with  her  infant, 
wherever  they  can  be  procured*  and,  so  to  speak,  outside  the  regular 
market.  A  traffic  of  the  utmost  infamy  is  thus  brought  about. 
Some  wretch  must  be  sought  out  willing  to  dispose  of  both  w^fe 
and  child-  This,  even  according  to  the  code  of  the  Koran,  is  a  gross 
abuse,  for  neither  can  a  w^oman  who  is  the  wife  of  a  free  Mussulman 
nor  can  his  child  be  sold  into  slavery. 

The  mass  of  the  slaves  in  the  harem  is  divided  into  two  classee, 
"the  Kalfas"  and  "the  Alaikes,"'  a  superior  and  an  inferior  order — to 
put  it  briefly,  the  mistresses  and  the  apprentices. 

It  is  a  touching  thing  to  reflect  upon,  that  just  as  in  the  human 
body  the  deprivation  of  any  particular  sense  gives  what  may  be  con- 
sidered an  artificial  and  preternatural  acutenees  to  another,  so  in  the 
condition  of  slavery  love,  deprived  of  its  natural  outlets,  finds  its 
employment  in  tmusnal  channels.  The  Almighty  tempers  the  wind  to 
the  shorn  lamb. 

*•  The  clooe  tie  which  ia  8et  up  between  a  KiU£a  and  her  apprenticee  is  a  tnnobing 
example  of  the  intimate  relation  which  may  be  formed  between  human  beings  by 
that  sympathT  which  comnK^n  duties^  interests,  and  habits  inspire.  Both  in  a 
condition  of  slarery,  the  KaKa  and  the  Alaike  love  to  support  each  other  :  in  cme 
ftenae  they  seem  to  form  but  a  single  being.    Marriage  itself  cannot  dissolve  the 

'  The  mnsicians  and  the  corps  dn  ballet  ;*'  "  the  slaves  of  the  lowest 
rank;'"  the  discipline;  the  drives  and  walks;  the  necessary  changes 
of  air  for  the  sake  of  health;  the  eunnchs  and  other  go-betweens; 
male  servants^  stewards,  stable-boys,  are  the  subjects  of  separate 
chapt^rsy  and  of  comment  brief  and  pungent. 

I  ^  .There  are  also  two  chapters  on  the  **  General  Establishment  of  the 
^Conrt  and  its  Annexes/'  which  conclude  the  work. 

U  Exceeding  as  our  extracts  have  done  our  intention  when  we 
took  T^  our  pen,  we  must  find  room  for  one  or  two  more,  throwing 
infinite  light*  as  we  think,  upon  parts  of  this  terrible  and  di^ta^efdl 
subject  upon  which  the  public  in  England  is  yet  hardly  well  informed. 



That  coiporal  pxuiishment  should  be  iaflicted  at  all  upon  women  is 
iiifioitely  disgusting,  but  what   can  we   say  to   such  a  passage 
this  ?— 

**  Discipliiie  is  maintained  in  tiits  seraglio  jjy  represaive  measures  and  corporal 
puniBlimerLts.  The  fii^t  coneist  ia  a  refueal  of  permission  to  go  out,  being  locked 
in,  &c.  Corpoi'al  punishments  are  designated  by  the  word  *  to  abandje/  which  Bigni- 
fies  the  bastinado  on  the  soles  of  the  feet,  a  penalty  the  use  of  which  goes  £u^ 
to  the  good  old  times  of  the  Japanese. 

*'  In  the  present  centniy  the  rcforminj^  spirit  has  penetrated  everywhere,  and 
the  bastinado  ha«  undergone  a  sensible  diminution,  at  least  for  the  person  of  the 

**  The  practice  of  striking  young  girls  upon  the  soles  of  their  feet  with  the  risk 
of  laming  them  has  been  quite  abandoned.     Blows  ai'e  given  elsewhere ;  it  would 
be  hai'd  to  say  with  preciaion  on  what  part  of  the  person.    It  is  well  understood  1 
that  rods  are  substituted  for  the  stick.    The  eunueha  are  charged  with  the  execu- 
tion of  the  sentences," 

It  is  added  that  it  is  **  of  strict  etiquette  that  all  the  young  women  J 
in  the  seraglio  should  be  draped  with  veiy  light  clothing.  Half  1 
dimlktie  is  the  usual  nile.  In  summer  such  a  dreae  is  highly  agree-] 
able,  but  in  winter  it  is  the  perpetual  cause  of  colda  and  lung-disease  J 
to  the  poor  young  girls  who  have  to  wait  whole  hours  for  the  com- 1 
mands  of  theii*  rtiistresses.'^ 

The  whole  domestic  service  of  the  Palace  is  performed  by  Mussul- 
mans, as  the  harem  is  peopled  only  by  slaves.     The  following  tale  I 
strikes  us  as  a  most  extraordinary  one  :— 

"The  mother  of  Abdul  Medjid,  for  examiple,  was  a  maid-of-albwork4^    She  was  j 
occupied  in  warming  the  baths  in  the  Palace.     Chance  would  have  it  that  onjej 
day  she  fell  in  with  the  Sultan  MahommiKl  as  he  was  gc*ing  tohisbath.     A  caprice  I 
burst  like  lightning  thi'orugh  the  soul  of  the  Sultan,  and  without  ceremony  the  ] 
aervant-ffirl  received  from.  His  Majesty  the  lofty  distinction  of  Kalfa.     It  ia  more  I 
than  probable  that  after  a  few  minutes'  reflection  the  S  ill  tan  regretted  his  precipi- 
tation I  but  he  had  given  his  wTird,  and  the  result  was  that  this  chance  maid-aei*- 
vant  gave  birth  to  a  prince,  and  was  proclaimed,  a  few  years  afterwards.  Sultana* 
VaUd?.  ! 

*'  What  a  wonderful  jump — from  the  wash- tub  to  the  throne !  It  is  a  true  tale 
of  the  *  Thou  sand- and- one  Nights.* 

**Togo  back  to  the  servant -gjirl a ;  their  nmuber  amounts  to  two  hundi'cd.     It 
is  time  that  we  should  now  add  up  the  total  number  of  the  female  population  of  ] 
the  harem,  and  I  find  that  it  approaches  something  like  a  thousand  women,  instead  j 
of  the  fom^  hundred  (wives  and  favourites),  the  very  modest  calculation  at  first 
brought   before   my  readers.     A   thousand  women !     It  is    a  grand    collection-  ' 
Again,  in  this  numl>er  we  do  not  take  in  cither  those  who  are  banished  to  the  \ 
Old  Seraglio  or  those  attached  to  the  amall  harems  or  little  courts  of  the  prin- 
cesses, though  sti'ictlj  speaking  these  should  be  reckoned  as  making  part  of  this  1 
astounding  mass  of  women,  for  tliey  depend  for  everji:hing  and  m  everything^ 
upon  the  Imperial  Harem  and  the  Civil  List* 

**  Here  then  we  have  a  population  of  about  two  thousand  women,  a  regiment  of 
something  like  three  battaHons,  but  of  which  the  cost  cannot  be  less  than  tbat  of] 

We  here  finish  a  subject  to  us  infinitely  sad  and  infinitely  dis- 
gusting.    It  18  probably  for  the  latter  reason  that  it  is  hardly  touched 
upon  by  writers  who  profess  to  give  an  account  of  the   State  of] 
Turkey.     It  is  nnpleasiint,  it  is   shameful.     Talking  of  it  does  no 

But  for  all  this  it  is  an  impoiiant  factor^  if  not  the  most  important. 



in  reviewing  the  political  condition  of  Turkey  and  the  East  in 
general.  Where  Turkey  has  been  great,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
show  that  it  has  been  so  in  spite  of  the  corniptions  which  polygamy, 
luxury,  and  slavery  entail,  by  an  exercise  of  those  great  military 
instincts  which  in  a  noble  race  enable  human  nature  to  appear  noblo 
among  the  basest  surroundings.  Turkey,  when  she  falls,  will  owe  her 
fall  to  a  corrupt  social  state,  which  is  the  necessary  result  of  the 
Mahometan  rehgion.  We  were  interested  to  observe  that  in  a  work 
which  has  just  issued  from  the  press* — Mr.  Nassau  Senior's  Convert 
sations  with  Guizot,  Thiei-s,  &c., — Clirznowski,  a  Polish  gentleman  who 
appears  to  have  occupied  a  position  in  high  society  very  like  that 
which  Count  Sti'eletzki  did  in  our  London  world,  is  reported  to  have 
said,  '*The  Turks  are,  without  exception,  the  finest  material  in  the  world 
for  soldiers ;  but  their  ofEcei'S  are  abominable,  and  their  non-com- 
missioned officers  equally  bad.'*  This  opinion  was  uttered  when  France 
and  England  were  about  to  fight  side  by  side  in  the  Ciimea.  It  has 
been  amply  confirmed  by  the  results  of  the  late  campaign  of  187 7» 
and  by  the  siege  of  Plevna.  The  reason  is  obvious.  The  soldiers 
are  brought  up  in  the  fields,  the  officers  in  the  harems,  where  lust,  twin 
sister  of  cruelty,  alternates  with  an  almost  feminine  cowardice.  We 
hardly  know  which  most  to  condemn,  the  indolence  which  kept  the 
Sultan  in  Constantinople  while  his  brave  armies  were  perishing  in  the 
field,  or  the  reckless  neglect  of  human  suffering  which  induced  the 
courageous  but  rash  Suheman  Pasha  to  hurl  his  battaHons  (without  a 
ray  of  hope  that  they  could  succeed)  against  the  unassailable  positions 
of  a  Russian  force  in  the  Schipka.  But  we  are  not  writing  the  history 
of  a  campaign.  We  call  attention  to  a  cancerous  disease  which  is 
devouring  the  very  life  of  our  ally,  and  which  is  mifortunately  incu- 
rable. The  very  essence  of  the  Turkish  Constitution  ia  the  position 
of  the  PadLschah,  his  army,  and  his  seragho.  What  an  eloquent 
writer  calls  the  dim  twiUght  of  Turkey's  decline  can  no  more  be 
arrested  by  the  battalions  of  England  than  the  course  of  the  suii  itself. 
We  may  attempt  to  skm  over  the  sore,  but  we  cannot  probe  it  to 
the  bottom,  tinless  we  root  out  the  real  fibres  of  disease,  the  coniiptiou 
which  taints  the  relation  of  the  sexes, — the  utter  disorganization  of  the 

It  has  been  said  that  the  publication  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  went 
far  to  destroy  predial  slavery  in  America.  Whether  that  be  true  or 
not  we  do  not  venture  to  affirm^  but  the  facts  diBclosed  produced  a 
deep  and  abiding  influence.  Literature  from  her  abounding  fountains 
sends  forth  the  Httle  streamlets  which  first  undermme,  then  wear 
away,  and  lastly  level,  whole  mountains  of  prejudice  and  wrong ;  and 
we  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  facts  disclosed  in  a  work  Mke 
"  Lea  Femmes  en  Turquie ''  will  work  their  way,  and  will,  as  they 
become  known  and  thought  over  by  the  European  mind,  do  for 
domestic  slaverj^  what  has  already  been  done  for  predial. 




Ere  we  close  tbe  door  against  the  Turk  it  m  well  to  aek»  Has  there 
been  any  improvement  1  Have  the  hopee,  the  sangtiiue  hopes,  of 
such  statesmen  as  Lord  Palmerston  been  in  any  measure  realized? 
And  here  we  would,  acknowledgiDg  the  deep  responsibility  which 
must  attach  to  any  answer,  whether  favourable  to  the  Turk  or  not, 
rather  quote  the  words  of  those  who  are  hopeful  on  the  subject.  We 
have  copied  a  great  deal  in  this  article.  It  is  indeed,  we  feel,  little 
better  than  a  collection  of  facts,  deeply  important  facts  we  believe, 
mterspersed  \vith  a  graphic  delineation  of  manners  and  life,  from  the 
pages  of  a  foreign  book,  but  we  must  go  on  to  the  end,  and  we  shall 
finish  by  simply  appealhig  to  the  words  of  a  warm  friend  of  Turkey, 
in  the  Qnarterly  Review  article  "  On  the  Revival  of  Turkey:*' — 

** '  Reform  *  is  a  word  listened  to  with  ecarce  disguised  repugnance  in  the  East, 
with  open  ridicule  in  the  West,  Can  it  he  otherwise?  Reckless  borrowing, 
wasteful  expenditure »  bourse  swindling;  embezzling  adventurers »  the  worst  type 
of  Eiu'opean  bureauewicy,  engrafted  on  Asiatic  supineness  and  centralization^ 
powerful  to  exhaust,  powerless  to  sustain  or  repair;  respected  and  national 
usages  trampled  on  to  make  way  for  third-rate  foreign  cuatoms  ;  a  sham  educa- 
tioiial  syBtenij  a  sham  parliamentjiry  repreaentation^  a  sham  lit-er'ature,  a  sham 
budget,  a  sham  civilization ;— these  iu*e  what  in  the  latter  Tears  Reform  has 
meant  for  Turkey.  In  Europe  it  has  come  to  mean  disappointed  expectations, 
frustrated  hopeR»  lost  capital,  mere  delusion.  Is  it  strang^i  if  the  very  sound  he 
hated  in  the  former  laud  P  heard  only  with  derision,  such  as  we  have  lately  wit- 
nessed  in  our  own  House  of  Commons,  in  the  latter  P  And  how  in  the  North? 
The  Memoir,  reid  or  pretended,  said  to  have  been  di'awn  up  by  Ttu-key's  deadliest 
foe,  the  late  Emperor  Nicholas,  for  the  guidance  of  his  successor  on  the  throne 
and  in  the  policy  of  St*  PeterBlnirg,  may  supply  the  answer ;  and  that  answer, 
whatever  may  be  the  value  of  the  document  itself  into  which  it  has  been  incor- 
porated, is  genuine  enough:  '  It  Is  most  important,  for  the  «tt^r  and  speedy  ruin 
of  the  Ottoman  Empu'e  that  is,  to  confirm  the  Sultan  in  his  pseudo-reforms,  and 
to  push  him  on  in  the  same  way.  Let  Turkey's  friends  and  advisei*s  well  consider 
this,  lest,  while  they  oiig«?rly  n.rg<i  what  they  conceive  to  be  remedies,  they  in 
iinxth  administer  poisons/  Scarce  less  w^orthy  of  note,  though  little  likely  to 
avail  against  the  cupidity  of  loan-mon^ere  and  the  selfishness  oi  the  momey 
market,  are  the  words  that  follow: — *  Of  equal  importance  is  it  that  the  Porte 
should  never  get  rid  of  financial  embarrassment.*  *' 

We  end  by  repeating  an  expreseion  of  our  belief  that  polygamy 
and  slavery  are  at  the  bottom  of  these  manifold  and  destructive  evils* 
Purified  by  the  life  of  the  desert  and  the  scanty  diet  usual  among 
nomad  tribce,  theRo  twin  vices  may  reign  ^\athout  utterly  tainting  the 
heart  of  man,  but  they  are  incompatible  -with  the  moral  dignity  and 
intellectual  pursuits  of  European  eociety, 

Walter  C,  Jajies, 



To  the  Editor  of  the  CoNTEMroBAHv  Rea'iew, 

In  repljf  to  ^onr  request  that  I  simuld  write  a  pajm*  for  your  Rev jtw  ofi 
the  ui€  of  Alcohol^  I  have  to  my  that  I  think  my  opiniom  have  been  ftdly  e^pt^es^ed 
ta  my  evidence  upon  the  subject^  given  before  the  Select  Commit  tee  of  the  IIou,*e  ^ 
of  Lords,     I  adhere  to  those  opinioiig^  of  which  my  friend  Dn  BucknUl  has  mad^i 
ihifollomnfi  precis,  representing  thein  correctly. 

J  amt  if-c,  William  W,  Gull. 

I  PRIZE  alcohol  and  wine  as  medicines ;  we  can  hardly  do  without 
them  altogether.     There  have  been  changes  in  medical  practice  iii  j 
the  amount  of  alcohol  used*     Forty  years  ago  it  was  moderate.     Then  \ 
came  the  change^  due  I  think  to  the  School  of  King's  College,  headed  J 
by  Dr.  Todd,  which  was  based  on  the  theory  that  cases  of  acute  j 
disease  were  almost  universally  weak  and  antiphlogistic,  and  there- j 
fore  to  be  treated  with  brandy.    For  the  past  twenty  years  there  haa 
again  been  a  great  change^  and  we  believe  now  that  diseases  run  fori 
the  most  part  a  physiological  course,  and  that  alcohol  has  but  a  sub- 
ordinate value,  which   is  due   chiefly  to  its  action  on  the  nervous 
system  as  a  sedative.   Under  this  \dew  many  diseases  are  now  allowed 
to  run  their  course  without  alcohol ;  but  if  we  find  a  patient  very  | 
delirious  or  exhausted  we  give  him  alcohol,  not  as  formerly  with  a 
view  of  curing  the  disease^  but  with  that  of  calming  the  nervous 
system  during  the  course  of  the  disease.     I'here  are  cases  such  as  a 
high-pulse  fever,  in  which  what  are  called  plilogistic  symptoms  would 
be  moderated  by  alcohol ;  and  it  was  Dr,  Todd's  merit  to  point  out  that 
the  distinction  between  phlogistic  and  antiphlogistic  has  no  existence. 
Fever  can  be  treated  without  alcohol.     In  young  patients  of  sound  ] 
constitutions  it  was  my  practice  at  Guy's  Hospital  to   do   so,  that 
my  students  should  be  able  to  see  the  course  of  the  disease.    I  have 

K  2 



cured  raaay  cases  of  typhus  in  young  subjects  under  twenty-five  mtli 
camomile  te^  and  light  diet,  and  the  practice  was  quite  safe  in  these 
cases,  I  think  the  error  is  still  prevalent  that  alcohol  cures  the 
disease^  vrhei-eas  the  disease  inins  its  physiological  course.  The  ad- 
vantage of  alcohol  is  in  its  effect  upoa  the  nervous  system^  rendering 
the  patient  more  indiflferent  to  the  processes  going  oo.  I  am  disposed, 
however,  to  beheve  that  although  we  could  not  do  without  alcohol  as^ 
a  drug,  it  is  etill  over-prescribed.  Under  the  shock  of  an  injury  or  an 
operation  the  nervous  system  has  to  be  deadened,  and  alcohol  is  the- 
best  agent  for  that,  acting  as  a  sedative  as  one  woxild  use  opium* 
Probably  it  acts  through  the  sympathetic  nerv-es,  but  I  could  not  give 
the  rationale.  That  would  be  a  very  complicated  question.  I  do  not 
know  how  alcohol  acts  upon  the  body  altogether — I  do  not  think  it  ia 
known ;  but  in  disease  we  use  it  veiy  much  as  a  sedative.  There  are 
cases  in  which  it  would  be  dangerous  to  do  without  it,  as  the  delirium 
of  typhoid,  in  which  the  patient  would  wear  himself  out  and  die  unless- 
soothed  by  alcohol  so  that  he  goes  to  sleep.  If  opiiun  were  used 
instead,  the  result  would  probably  be  fatal.  In  such  cases  alcohol  is- 
the  best  sedative  we  possess. 

As  regards  the  daily  use  of  alcohol  as  a  drug,  I  tliink  there  are 
conditions  of  the  system,  under  fatigue   and   exhaustion,  where   it 
might  be  useful,  where  the  nei-vous  system  might  be  deadened,  if  I 
may  say  so,  or  that  alteration  made  in  it  wliich  was  requisite.    But 
though  the  use  of  alcohol  in  moderation  may  be  beneficial,  I  very 
much  doubt  whether  there  are  not  some  kinds  of  food  which  might 
veiy  well  take  its  place.     If  I  am  myself  fatigued  with  overwork,  I  eabj 
raisins  instead  of  taking  wine.     Cases  of  feeble  digestion  you  maj 
deal  with  by  light  and  varied  food,  but  still  I  think  wine  is  useful^ — ^| 
a  little  wine  and  with  strict  limit — as  a  medicine  for  temporary  use* 
For  young  people  I  should  not  consider  it  necessary,  but  one  must! 
consider  alcohol  in  respect  of  age.     One  of  the  Greek  poets  writes 
"  There  is  an  equal  use  in  wine  and  fire  to  the  dwellers  upon  earth/** 
and  I  thiuk  he  is  right  if  you  take  the  whole  dwellers  upon  earth, 
the  northern  regions  you  want  more  stimulant  and  fire,  in  the  south  ' 
less;  and  again,  more  as  age  increases  and  vitality  diminishes.     Good 
food  will  supply  all  the  wants  of  the  system  up  to  the  middle  period 
of  life.     In  old  age   or  tUsease  yoti  may  often  ^vant  some  artificial 
stimulus,  or  something  to  act  upon  the  system  as  we  use  fire. 

In  advising  a  young  man  of  sound  health  as  to  whether  he  ought 
to  give  up  alcohol,  I  should  consider  his  calHiig.  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  shotild  not  advise  an  out-of-door  man,  doing  a  good  deal  of  work,  a 
carter  for  instance,  to  take  some  beer,  as  a  good  form  of  food,  con- 
taining sugar  and  vegetable  extract  and  very  httle  alcohol,  but  a  very 
small  piece  of  beefsteak  would  make  up  the  materials.    And  if  the 

•  qIvm  ycf  wiipi  JiToy  iwixBoyioiffiy  livtiap.'^PanyaHs* 



had  a  good  strong  digeetion   lie  could  do  without  his  beer, 

'  Some  stomachs  have  more  power  than  others  to  conBume  common 

\  food.     I  do  not  think  we  should  be  prepared  to  say  that,  speaking  of 

the  labouring  classes,  everybody  could  go  ^rithont  beer,  as  a  food  of  a 

light  kind. 

As  for  intellectual  work  I  should  join  issue  at  once  ^vith  those  who 
eay  that  it  cannot  be  half  so  well  done  without  ivine  or  alcohol.  By 
alcohol  I  hold  that  yon  may  quicken  the  opemtions  of  the  intellect,  but 
do  not  improve  them.  Alcohol  makes  the  tliuughts  run  quicker  for  a 
time,  but  they  are  not  very  good  thought®.  A  very  large  number  of 
people  fall  into  the  error  every  day  of  l1elie^^np:  that  strong  wine  and 
€timulanta  give  strength.  I  am  persuaded  that  notliiiig  better  cotild 
l>e  done  than  that  lecturers  should  go  about  the  coimtry  insti-ucting 
[the  people  upon  the  disadvantages  of  alcohol  as  it  is  daily  used. 
People  will  not  listen  to  the  temperance  societies  because  they  cany 
their  theories  too  far*  I  do  not  think  that  you  can  start  ^vith  the 
idea  that  there  is  no  use  in  alcohol  and  no  good  in  wine. 

The  constant  use  of  alcohol,  even  in  moderate  measure,  may  injure 

the  nerve  tissues,  and  be  deleterious  to  health;  and  one  of  the  com- 

[  monest  things  in  society  is  that  people  are  injured  by  drink  without 

being  drunkards.     It  goes  on  so  quietly  that  it  is  difficult  to  observe, 

«ven  though  it  leads  to  degeneration  of  the  tissues,  and  spoils  the 

health  and  the  intellect.     Short  of  dmnkenness,  I  should  say  from 

my  experience  that  alcohol  is  the  most  doBtrnctive  agent  we  are 

aware    of  in   this    countrj%       There    is  an    afliUation  of    disorders 

I  lirisiDg  from  excess  of  drink,  beginning  at  the  liver  and  the  bloody 

and  proceeding  to  the  lungs,  heai-t,  brain,  and  kidneys.     I  think  that 

is  about   the   order.     The  stomach  will  often  go  on  a  long  time, 

A  person  who  carries  a  great  deal  of  drink  and  does  not  get  dnmk 

rmay  be  even  more  damaged  than  a  man  who  does  get  drunk,  because 

jte  may  be  able  to  pm-sue  his  system  of  drinking  for  a  longer  time. 

jAVhen  a  man  who  has  been  in  tlie  habit  of  drinking  largely  has 

Ifiome  disease,  I  should  fearlessly  take  alcohol  away  from  him  alto- 

f^ther.     In  habitual  drunkards  you  can  stop  the  supply  of  alcohol 

[at  once  without  injury.      If  you  are  taking  poison  into  the  blood,  I 

\Ao  not  see  the  advantage  of  diminishing  the  degrees  of  it  day  by 

ay.     Neither  should  I  recommend  any  tonic  or  drink  by  which  a 

inkard    might    gradually  accustom  himeelf    to  abstinence  from 

[jJcohoL      I  should  recommend  nothing  beyond  good  food,   which 

Itnight  not  at  first  supply  the  craving,  but  would  ultimately  overcome 

it,  and  Liebig  s  Extmct  of  Meat  is  one  of  the  best  stimulanta  in 

^uch  cases.      A  habitual  drunkard  may  be  so  spoUed  and  generally 

lincurable    that    really    one    can    do    nothing   with    the    man;    but 

iming  him  to  be  in  a  fair  state  to  be  treated,  I  would  still  not  give 

him  tonics. 

With  regard  to  the  subject  of  restraint,  there  comes  a  time  not 



only  in  drinldng  but  in  all  other  habits  when  liabit  becomes  second' 
nature,  and  this  liabit,  ae  it  is  vn\h  taking  other  poisonB,— ^opium,  for 
example,— becomes  an  overwhelming  imptdse  ;  and  you  can  no  more 
trust  a  drunkard  than  you  can  an  opium-eater  or  any  other  man  whose 
habit  has  become  strong,     I  see  no  objection  to  allow  a  form  of  con- 
tract by  which  a  man  might  say,  '*  I  agree  to  be  confined  for  a  certain 
time  imder  care  and  restraint  for  the  purpose  of  effecting  my  cure.** 
It  stands  to   common  sense  that  if  a   man  were  willing  to   give 
up  his  drinking  habits  one  would  be  ybtj  glad  to  close  with  him 
and  keep  him  from  them*    Then  comes  the  question  of  the  houses. 
It  would  be    a  very  much  larger  question  to  let  his  friends   put 
him  in.     I  should  be  verj^  careful  how  I  allowed  a  man's  friends  to 
interfere  with  his  freedom  when  he  was  sober.    The  restraint  would^ 
be  the  difficulty.     I  coiild  understand  the  desirability  of  having  those 
places,  and  the  desirability  of  encouraging  a  drankard  to  enter  them, 
but  when  he  recovers  from  his  drunkenness,  which  he  would  do  in 
the  course  of  a  few  days,  then  I  shoidd  be  in  a  difficulty  how  I  could 
enforce,  and  how  long  I   was  to    enforce,   those   conditions.     The 
question  arises  how  far  you  would  allow  him  to  change  his  mind,  and 
another  great  difficulty  would  be  as  to  the  number  of  months  in  which 
a  dmnkard's  tissues  are  remade  into  sobi-iety.    Any  evidence  on  that 
point  must  be  veiy  theoretical.     I  think  that  when  any  man   has 
recovered  from  his   drunken    bout  he  is  as  likely  to  be  morally 
good   on   that   day  as  he  would   be   after  the   next  six  months^ — 
in    fact,    perhaps    better,    because    at    the  end  of   six  months   he- 
would  have  forgotten  the  difficulty  he  had  been  in.     I  think  a  man^^*! 
might  be  as  hkely  to  behave  well  after  the  end  of  a  week  or  a  fort-* 
night  as  he  would  at  the  end  of  six  montlis.     A  man  who  has  had  a  *" 
drunken  bout  will  often  remain  sober  for  two  months  or  more,  so  that 
I  am  not  sure  that  if  you  shut  these  people  up  for  any  length  of  time  \ 
you  would  gain  much.     I  tliink  that  all   evidence  about  terms  of* 
detention  for  twelve  or  eighteen  months  would  be  entirely  theoreticaL. 
I  beheve  in  hereditary  tendency,  not  to  dimnkenness  j3«r  ae^  but  to  that'll 
in  which  dmnkenness  is  included,     K  this  question  were  carefully^ 
studied,  it  would  be  found  that  there  are  people  mentally  defective  in  J 
many  ways,  who,  however,  by  good  education  and  reasonable  punish*' 
ment  at  an  early  period,  might  be  trained  to  good  habits, 

I  would  say  that  the  term  dipsomania  is  an  euphonious  expression ' 
for  incorrigible  dninkenness.    The  word  is  not  admitted  in  science.     It ' 
would  be  properly  appKed  to  rare  diseases  in  which  there  is  imcon- 
troUable  thirst  not  for  alcohol  but  for  mere  fluids.   You  may  distinguish ' 
between  insanity  and  drunkenness  by  thisj  a  man  who  is  diimk  gets  Jl 
sober  when  the  drink  is  ehmiiiated,  but  the  insane  man  does  not' 
recover  by  such  a  process.     I  do  not  think  that  a  court  of  law  in 
the  administration  of  punishment  would  find  it  very  difficult  to  dis-^ 
tinguish  between  the  two*    Yon  cannot,  however,  make  a  man  sano 



by  puDishmeiit,  but  I  feel  reasonably  sure  you  can  make  a  man  sober  by 
punishmeiit.  I  think  that  unlesa  drunkards  are  made  criniinalB,  and  the 
force  of  the  law  is  brought  to  bear  upon  them,  there  ia  no  way  of  deal- 
ing "With  them.  But  I  would  not  advocate  making  them  criminals  for 
the  mere  silent  indulgence  of  drinking,  unleas  it  were  accompanied  by 
some  injurious  effects  on  society,  nor  unless  a  man  were  injurious  to 
others*  But  cannot  you  catch  the  habitual  drunkard  early,  before  he 
has  become  an  incorrigible  habitual  dnmkard,  or  even  in  the  begimiing, 
in  his  first  drmikennesfi,  when  you  are  more  likely  to  do  him  good  ? 
Society  might  make  it  appear  more  or  less  distinctly  by  its  vote  or 
feeling  that  drunkenness  is  a  fault  against  society.  If  a  man  ie  found 
drunk  I  would  publish  his  name  in  the  district  where  he  lived,  for 
public  reprobation  ;  but  I  know  that  society  would  not  do  that,  and 
I  see  no  other  way  of  dealing  with  it.  Society  is  like  a  pyramid,  and 
I  could  deal  with  drunkenness  if  you  would  let  me  cut  my  section  near 
the  apex ;  but  how  deal  with  it  if  the  section  be  cut  near  the  base 
where  the  area  is  so  enormous  1  I  think  you  cannot  do  it  by  legislation, 
but  I  think  it  can  be  done  by  the  better  instruction  of  the  people,  by 
providing  better  houses,  better  means  of  occupation,  and  better^ 
amusement,  and  by  fosteriug  better  pubHo  sentiment. 

I  think  the  Cominittee  must  consider,  in  all  the  conclusions  they 
come  to,  the  question  for  whom  this  inquiry  is  made,  and  the  section 
of  society  to  be  legislated  for.  That  is  to  say,  is  it  for  the  whole  area 
of  society,  or  is  it  for  a  few  prominent  cases  where  a  great  deal  of 
pubUc  8ea.udal  and  harm  follow?  No  doubt  legislation  is  chiefly 
needed  for  the  lowest  sections,  because  the  npper  sections  of  society 
can  take  care  of  themselves, 

Cotifliderations  as  to  what  is  practicable,  and  what  is  not  practicable^ 
wxmi  vary  with  this  question,  because  it  would  be  ditHcult  to  apply  a 
law  to  that  lower  area  of  society  where  the  evil  is  so  very  widespread. 
You  could  shut  up  these  people  if  you  had  but  few  of  them,  but  if  you 
had  thousands  of  them,  it  would  come  to  be  a  very  difficult  matter. 
Then,  I  think,  another  consideration  the  Committee  must  have  before 
fliem  at  all  times  is,  whether  the  Committee  is  dealing  with  a  disease 
or  a  crime.  I  confess  that  I  thhik  that  although  a  dmukard  is  the 
subject  of  disease,  in  a  certain  sense,  when  he  is  drunk,  still  when  he 
becomes  sober  he  becomes  criminal  if  he  falls  back  into  his  drunken- 
neae.  With  the  exception  of  suicide,  nothing  a  man  does  against  his 
own  health  is  a  crime.  The  quesrion  is  whether  a  man  destroying 
himself  by  drink  sliould  be  allowed  to  go  so  far  as  that  without 
punishment.  As  for  riotous  drunkards,  who  have  been  convicted  a 
hundred  and  fifty  times,  I  should  have  no  heeitatiou  in  treating  them 
aa  criminals. 




ALTHOUGH  the  majority  of  adults  in  this  coimtiy  etiU  consume  a 
daUj  allowance  of  alcohol  in  one  fomi  or  another,  there  has  per- 
haps never  been  a  time  in  which  there  have  existed  in  the  medical 
profeesion,  and  to  some  extent  out  of  it,  such  strong  and  general 
doubts  as  to  the  advantage  of  the  habit.  Not  a  few — very  often,  it  is 
true,  they  who  have  found  that  they  cannot  take  alcohohc  drinks  in 
any  shape  themselves  without  in  some  way  Buffering— decry  their  use 
altogether ;  while  others,  not  yet  perhaps  having  experienced  any 
obvious  injury  from  them,  are  unwiUiug  to  beUeve  that  there  can  be 
any  hami  in  a  custom  at  once  bo  time-honoured  and  pleasant. 

Having  been  one  of  the  first  (in  1860)  to  raise  my  voice  against  the 
fashion,  prevalent  about  twenty  yeai-s  back,  of  treating  all  acute 
diseases  on  principle  with  large  quantities  of  alcohol,  and  ha^dng  since 
then  had  unusual  faciHties  of  observiog  the  effects  of  alcohol  in 
inducing  serious  local  diseases  and  in  deranging  the  general  health, 
the  subject  is  one  to  which  I  have  devoted  considerable  attention, 
and  on  which  I  think  that  I  have  some  right  to  express  an  opinion. 

It  appears  to  me  that,  in  the  disenseions  which  have  taken  place 
respecting  the  advantages  or  disadvantages  of  alcoholic  drinks,  one 
matter  has  been  too  much  lost  sight  of,  viz.,  that  all  persons  are  not 
constituted  alike.  Indeed,  the  constitutions  of  no  two  persons  are 
identical ;  and  hence,  as  regards  both  alcohol  and  other  things,  each 
constitution  demands  a  treatment  suitable  to  itself.  Still,  speaking 
generally,  it  may  be  said  that,  as  regards  their  alcohoKc  capabilities, 
healthy  persons  may  be  divided  into  three  classes* 

1,  There  are  some  who  during  all  their  Uves  drink  daily  a  mode- 
rate, or  even  a  considerable  quantity  of  alcoholj  and  are  to  all  appear- 
ances none  the  worse.  They  die  perhaps  at  a  good  old  age»  of 
ailments  with  which  alcohol  can  in  no  way  be  connected.  It  is 
astonishing,  indeed,  what  enormous  quantities  of  alcoholic  drinks  are 
habitually  consumed  over  a  long  series  of  yearn  by  some  few  persons, 
without  the  health  apparently  in  any  way  suffering.  These  cases  are 
sometimes  appealed  to  as  proofs  of  the  harmlessness  of  alcohol.  But 
for  one  person  whose  constitution  enables  him  thus  to  live  to  old  age, 
hundreds  succumb  early  to  diseases  which  are  avowedly  the  result  of 
alcoholic  poisoning.  Jledieal  experience  amply  endoi-ses  the  wisdom 
of  the  directoi-s  of  insurance  offices,  who  accept  tlie  lives  of  publicans 
only  at  a  greatly  increased  premium,  or  decline  them  altogether.  The 
ability  to  consume  alcohol  in  any  quantity  depends  much  upon  the 
circumstances  in  which  a  man  is  placed.     He  who  leads  a  country 



Kfe,  and  takes  active  exercise  in  the  open  air,  can  consume  without 
fiufferiDg  an  amount  which  would  be  positively  injurious  to  him  were 
he  a  sedentary  student,  or  a  professional  man  in  town.  It  is  the 
^tered  habits  of  the  present  generation  that  account  in  great  measure 
for  their  being  less  tolerant  of  alcohol  than  their  forefathers. 

2,  But  secondly,  there  are  persons  who  habitually  consume  what  is 
considered  a  moderate  quantity  of  alcohol,  and  perhaps  at  the  time 
feel  all  the  better  for  it.  At  lengthy  however^  disease  overtakes  them, 
and  then  it  is  forgotten  that  the  brittle  artery,  the  softened  heart,  the 
diseased  liver,  or  the  gouty  kidney*  or  the  other  evidences  of  pre- 
mature decay,  which  for  years  have  been  slowly  find  insidiously 
advaQcing,  and  which  at  length  render  life  a  burden  or  terminate 
it  altogether,  might  have  been  postponed,  or  perhaps  might  never 
have  occurred,  had  it  not  been  for  the  daily  dose  of  alcohol,  which 
induced  an  abnormal  chemietiy  of  the  tissues  and  the  circulation  of 
an  impure  blood.  My  experience  has  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that 
alcohol,  taken  in  what  is  usually  regarded  as  moderation,  is  more  or 
less  directly  the  canse  of  a  large  number  of  the  aihnents  which  in 
this  countrj^  render  life  miserable,  and  bring  it  to  an  early  close. 

3.  Lastly^  to  a  third  and  by  no  means  a  small  class  of  persons, 
alcohol,  even  in  small  quantities,  is  an  unmistakable  poison.  One  or 
two  glasses  of  sheiTy  or  of  champagne  will  produce  lassitude,  achings 
in  the  h'mbs,  frontal  headache,  inaptitude  for  bodily  or  mental  work, 
want  of  sleep,  and  other  distressing  symptoms.  The  man  who  thus 
suffers,  fancying  that  he  is  w^eak,  has  recoui-se  to  a  larger  quantity  of 
the  universal  restorer,  but  finds  that  he  is  Tvorse ;  then  he  goes  to  his 
medical  adviser,  w^ho  perhaps  tells  him  to  substitute  brandy  or  whiskey 
for  the  wine,  from  w^hich  counsel  he  often  infers  that  wliiekey  is  good 
for  his  complaint,  instead  of  its  being,  as  his  medical  friend  intended» 
the  lesser  of  two  necessary  evils.  He  consults  one  doctor  after 
another,  and  wOI  consume  any  amount  of  drugs  in  the  vain  effort  to 
alleviate  his  sufferings,  but  he  cannot  be  prevailed  upon  to  do  what 
alone  is  necessary-,  namely,  to  give  up  his  daily  dose  of  poison, 
because,  forsooth,  he  is  unwilling  to  be  singular,  or  because  he  feara 
that  he  will  become  too  weak  hi  consequence  of  his  omitting  to  take 
the  daily  stimulus,  which,  in  truth,  is  undermining  his  health,  and  is 
the  real  cause  of  his  weakness.  This  intolerance  of  alcohol  very 
often  runs  in  families ;  hke  gout,  with  which  it  is  often  associated, 
it  may  be  inherited ;  but  not  unfreqiiently  it  appears  to  be  due  to 
a  state  of  the  constitution  induced  by  various  diseases,  such  as  severe 
fevers,  &c. 

With  regard  to  this  last  class  of  persons  there  can  be  no  doubt  in 
my  mind  that  alcohol  is  an  unmitigated  evil,  and  that  total  abstinence 
is  the  best  rule.  The  real  difficulty  is  in  deciding  as  to  the  advantage 
of  alcohol  to  individuals  belonging  to  the  first  two  classes. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  although  there  are  no  statistics,  and  probably 




never  will  be,  to  guide  us  in  deciding  whether  the  daily  use  of  alcohol 
in  moderation  conduces  to  longevity,  or  to  a  healthy  and  vigorous 
performance  of  the  bodily  and  mental  functions  in  any  class  of  per8ons,U 
I  believe  that  there  is  little  groond,  either  scientific  or  practical,  for*^ 
the  prevalent  belief  that,  as  regards  bodily  and  mental  working  power, 
there  is  advantage  in  its  use  to  those  who  arc  in*  the  eujoynient  of. 
good   or  average  health*      Without    entcriiig  into   the  still   vexed 
question  as  to  the  mode  of  action  of  alcohol, — ^whether  it  be  a  food  oi 
merely  a  stimulant  of  the  heart's  action, — so  far  as  my  observatioi: 
and  experience  go,  in  a  man  who  enjoys  average  health,  who  eat^ 
well  and  sleeps  well,  the  judgment  is  clearer  and  the  mental  capaeitj 
greater  when  he  takes  no  alcohol,  than  when  he  takes  even  a  suiali 
quantity;  and  with  regard  to  bodily  work,  although  alcohol   maj 
enable  him  for  a  time  to  exert  luraself  beyond  his  proper  strength,  th€ 
subsequent  reaction  requires  a  repetition  of  the  stimulus,  and  ere  lonj 
the  frequent  repetition  of  the  stimulus  causes  the  health  to  break  down* 
The  cases  in  which  small  quantities  of  alcohol  are  constantly  takei^ 
with  the  object  of  enabling  a  man  to  get  through  his  daily  toil  are 
amoDg  the  most  distressing  examples  of  alcoholism  with  whicli  the* 
medical  man  is  brought  in  contact*     The  argument  that  the  Moham- 
medan iuhabitanta  of  Eastern  countries  who  drink  no  alcohol  are  inferior^ 
on  this  accoxmt,  in  bodily  and  mental  vigour,  to  Europeans  who  for 
the  most  part  do  consimie  alcohol,  appears  to  me  to  be  of  little  value^ 
in  consideration  of  the  many  other  conditions  of  climate,  race,  and 
habits,  to  which  the  dilTerence  may  be  traced.     Eastern  nations  are' 
no  doubt  liable  to  maladies  resulting  from  the  conditions  under  which 
they  live,  from  which  Eugliehmeu  and  Europeans  are  wholly  or  com- 
paratively exempt ;  but  it  is  rare  to  find  in  them  gout,  or  the  constitu- 
tional state  which  induces  not    only  gout  but  many  of  the  most 
formidable  disorders  of  vital  organs  and  degenerations  of  tisstie  with 
which  Europeans  are  afHicted.     Although  it  may  be  imposmble  to 
adduce  statistics  either  for  or  against  the  moderate  use  of  alcohol,  the 
physician  who  carefully  watches  the  early  begiimings  of  disease  in 
individuals — the  dyspepsia,  for  instance,  which  is  often  the  first  Unk — j 
cannot  fail  I  think,  to  admit  that  these  are  due  in  very  many  instance 
to  alcohol  in  some  fonn  or  other,  which»  though  taken  in  what  mosi^ 
persons  would  regard  as  moderation,  yet  has  deranged  the  primary  oi 
secondary  digestion,  or  has  in  some  way  disordered  the  chemistry  of 
nutrition  or  of  elimination. 

It  follows  then  that  if  alcohol  be  not  necessary  to  enable  a  healthy 
mail  to  accomplish  bin  daily  work,  and  if  we  cannot  tell,  xmtil  it  bo  too 
late,  to  wliich  of  the  first  two  classes  of  persons  already  referred  to  he 
belongs,  or  whether  the  daily  use  of  alcohol  may  not  have  the  effect- 
of  slowly  undermining  his  general  health,  the  question  which  eaci 
person  has  to  decide  for  himself  is  whether,  in  order  to  gratify  th^ 
pleasures  of  the  palate  and  conform  to  the  ttsogeiis  of  society,  he  will' 




encotmter  the  risk*  The  risk,  it  i^  true,  may  in  many  instances  be  slight, 
and  many  persons  will  no  donbt  continue  to  encounter  it  rather  than 
forego  the  pleasure  ;  but  the  healthy  man  who  wishes  to  live  long,  and' 
to  continue  enjo}dng  good  health,  without  which  long  life  would  not 
be  desirable,  ought,  I  believe,  to  abstain  from  the  habitual  use  of 
alcohol,  although  a  glass  or  two  of  wine,  or  some  of  Dr.  Bemays' 
favourite  "  bran  died  cherries,"  taken  occa^ionalUh  may  do  liim  no  hann,. 
and  may  at  times,  under  the  circumstances  to  be  presently  mentioned. 
be  of  service, 

TMiat  then  are  the  conditions  of  the  animal  economy  in  which 
alcohol  may  be  of  positive  use  ?  That  there  are  such  conditions  I 
believe  cannot  be  denied  by  any  one  who  has  honestly  studied  the 
subjeot ;  but  th^y  are  not  the  conditions  of  perfect  health.  It  is 
especially  when  the  circulation  is  weak  or  sluggish  that  a  daily  allow- 
ance of  alcohol  may  do  real  good.     Thus— 

1.  Alcohol  is  useful  in  the  course  of  most  acute  diseases,  when  tho 
organs  of  circulation  begin  to  fail  as  they  are  apt  to  do,  A  moderate 
quantity  usually  suffices.  The  large  quantities — e.g.,  one  or  two* 
bottles  of  brandy  in  twenty-four  hours — still  sometimeH  administered' 
may  do  harm  by  inducing  congestion  of  various  internal  organs.  * 

"S,  In  convalescence  from  acute  diseases,  or  from  other  weakening 
aOments,  when  the  circulation  remains  feeble  a!ul  the  temperature  is 
often  subnormal,  alcohol  is  also  useful  in  promoting  the  circnlatiorL 
and  assisting  digestion. 

3.  In  persons  of  advanced  life  the  circulation  i.s  also  often  feeble, 
and  a  moderate  allowance  of  alcohol  often  appears  to  be  beneficiah 

4.  All  other  conditions  of  the  system  marked  by  weakness  of  the^ 
muscular  wall  of  the  heart,  whether  permanent  or  transient,  are- 
usually  benefited  by  alcohol. 

To  all  persons  under  some  of  the  circumstances  now  mentioned 
alcohol  may  be  useful  for  a  time,  even  although  its  habitual  uee  may  do- 
harm*  But  one  rule  ought  never  to  be  forgotten— viz.,  that  forwhat- 
ever  purpose  alcohol  be  given,  it  ought  never  to  be  taken  on  an  empty 
stomach.  It  is  the  prevalent  practice  of  '*  nipping/*  or  of  taHng 
stimulants  hi  the  intervals  of  meals,  which  is  most  injurious  to  health. 

In  conclusion,  I  may  sum  up  my  opinions  on  the  utility  of  alcohol 
to  health  and  in  disease  in  these  few  words  : — 

1.  A  man  who  is  in  good  health  does  not  require  it,  and  is  pro- 
bably better  without  \L  Its  occasional  use  will  do  him  no  harm  ;  its- 
habitual  use,  even  in  moderation,  may  and  often  does  induce  disease 

-  2*  There  are  a  large  number  of  persons  in  modern  society  to  whom 
alcohol*  even  in  moderate  quantity,  is  a  positive  poison. 

3.  In  all  conditions  of  the  system  characterized  by  weakness  of 
the  circulation  the  daily  use  of  a  small  quantity  of  alcohol  is  likely  to 
be  bi'ueficialt  at  all  events  for  a  time. 



Alcohol,  were  its  use  restricted  in  accordance  with  these  views, 
would,  in  my  opinion,  be  productive  of  much  good  \  but  when  taken 
in  accordance  wtli  the  fashion  and  opiiiions  which  are  prevalent, 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  good  which  it  confers  is  incalculably 
raurpaeeed  by  the  evil  which  it  iuflictg  upon  the  human  race. 

Charles  Murchison, 



THERE  is  one  aspect  of  the  alcohol  question  which,  although  it  is 
not  purely  medical,  yet  is  brought  strongly  before  the  mind  in 
reflecting  upon  those  mental  faults  and  Bufferings  for  which  medical 
-advice  is  often  sought.  The  aspect  I  refer  to  is  that  which  regards 
the  various  powem  of  alcohol  over  the  several  faculties  or  soiu'ces  of 
4ibihty  which  conetitute  the  mind  of  an  individual  person^  the  right 
l>alance  of  which  faculties  composes  such  person's  mental  health.  By 
the  power  which  alcohol  exerta  over  men's  enterprise,  readiness  of 
resource,  and  perseverance,  what  is  its  influence  for  or  against  their 
working  power  ? 

No  question  requires  more  circumspect  and  patient  consideration, 
and  yet  no  question  is  more  nearly  hopelessly  lost  in  the  conflict  of 
narrow,  hasty,  violent  opinions,  because  so  many  have  their  welfare 
and  happiness  bhghted  by  the  abuse  of  alcohol  that  neither  they  nor 
those  around  them  are  able  to  judge  impartially  as  to  reasons  for  its 
moderate  use, 

Whttt  influence  has  alcohol  on  the  composition  or  development  of 
ciiind  and  texture  wliich  shall  best  enable  a  man  to  hold  his  place  in 
the  struggle  for  existence  ? — a  struggle  which  in  our  high  civihzation 
has  become  remo^-ed  into  artificial  conditions,  so  that  a  man  must 
somehow  find  increasing  vigour  as  social  life  makes  greater  demands 
upon  him,  whilst  nature's  simple  provisions  for  his  self-maintenanco  are 
more  or  less  obviously  followiug  the  example  of  his  teeth,  and  hin 
teeth  are  obviously  growing  few  and  bad  before  their  time. 

Struggle  for  existence !  as  perhaps  it  was  in  Mr,  Dai*win's  world  of 
advancing  beasts  and  developing  vegetablee.  But  now  the  plan  is 
so  turned  about  by  the  arrival  of  man  on  the  scene,  and  by  his  civili- 
zation, that  you  cannot  watch  even  Darwin  and  Huxley  themeelves 
w^ithout  seeing  that  the  struggle  they  and  other  good  men  wage  is  no 
struggle  for  existence,  but  a  struggle  against  mere  existence*  The 
struggle  for  existence  is  brutal  life.    Astriiggle  to  do  something  more 




than  exist  is  the  aign  of  hnman  life — ^the  mission  of  the  human  souL 
What  is  the  use  of  alcohol  in  such  a  straggle  1  The  question  is  a  wide 
one.  It  might  lead  us  to  inquire  what  that  is  which  men  want  to 
obtain  beyond  mere  existence.  Watching  some  eminent  teachers  you* 
might  suppose  it  to  he  a  very  detailed  knowledge  of  the  commoi> 
frog.  But  men  are  buman  because  they  look  upwards  and  to  tha , 
the  future,  not  downwards  and  to  the  past.  And  Darmn  and 
Huxley,  and  ev^n  Haeekel,  w^iil  in  time  learn  that  over-scratiniziug 
insufficient  evidence  does  not  make  it  more  complete. 

The  question  what  alcohol  can  do  in  the  human  struggle  against  mere- 
existence  cannot  be  settled  by  giving  alcohol  to  dogs  or  rabbits^  nor  even^ 
by  observing  the  effects  of  alcohol  on  several  soldiers  doing  so  many 
foot-pounds  of  work  per  diem.    For,  although  soldiers  struggle  againslrj 
existence  in  more  ways  than  one,  yet  Dr.  Parkes's  test  of  the  usefulness-  ] 
of  alcohol  in  them  only  took  into  consideration  their  muscular  strength. 
But  alcohol  owes  not  its  powx^r  over  man  to  its  effects  on  his  muscles* 
It  affects  the  whole  man — ^his  whole    self — all  he  can  do  and  say^ 
And  not  only  so,  but  all  that  his  bodily  nature  does  in  secret  within 
him.     So  that  along  a  continuity  of  processes,  from  the  beating  of  a^ 
gentleman's  heart  up  to  his  most  perfectly  inspired  bow,  or  his  most 
eloquent  speech,  this  agent  plays  upon  his  nervous  system.     Yet  many* , 
talk  as  if  alcohol  was  a  thing  of  very  simple  powers,  and  its  use  a 
mere  question  whether  it  feeds  people?  whether  it  is  burnt  in  the^ 
system  or  no  ?  what  is  the  nutritious  power  of  a  Scotchman  a  whiskej^ . 
as  compared  \yith  his  porridge? 

The  people  who  take  this  simple  view  ai*e  called  Physiologists. 

They  hold  opinions  rendered  confident  by  science.     Their  view% 
however,  ignore  such  email  points  as  do  not  come  within  their  science^ 
Just  as  to  botanists  it  makes  no  difference  whether  a  strawberry  is  » J 
British  Queen,  or  a  Doctor  Hogg,  or  a  common  wild  one  under  m 
hedge>  all  are  alike  Fragaria  vesca,   so  the  physiologist   makes   nal 
difference  between  gentle  and  simple.     To  a  physiologist  a  Queen  a  i 
Counsel  and  a  potman  are  alike.     He  will  dissect  and  decompose  the- 
one  as  easily  as  the  other,  and  into  the  same  fibrin,  albumen,  neurhi, 
hfiemoglobuHn,  &c.,  and  tell  both  their  oxydations  up  in  foot-pounda^j 
A  trenchantly  simple  levelling  view,  but  with  the  disadvantage   of 
overlooking  differences  wdiich,  however  they  evade  the  scalpel  and!' 
the  retort  of  physiology,  are  the  very  foundation  of  the  order  and 
stability  of  social  life. 

The  great  question  of  the  use  of  alcohol  which  I  wish  to  examine 
ifl  the  power  it  may  have  over  those  factoids  of  difference  between 
Queen's  Counsel  and  potman  which  dietingui^h  men  from  men,  thu»j 
going  outside  the  range  of  physiology  to  enter  the  region  of  truly 
humane  interest  and  import. 

Lest  I  should  seem  to  raise  a  subtle  and  unpractical  point,  let  me 
quote  a  few  lines  from  clinical  medicine,  a  science  which  is  obliged  to 



extend  its  range  beyond  the  limits  of  physiology.    Di%  Stokes,  one  of 
*oiir  beet  authorities  on  Fever,  says : — 

*'  III  pri%'ate  practice,  we  often  liiid  that  stimulation  cannot  be  carried  on  so 
boldly  as  in  liosfiital ;  and  t\m  appears  to  be  connected  witli  the  previous 
halnt"^  of  tlio  jiatient,  not  in  the  way  of  intemperance  in  the  use  of  wine*  but 
in  that  of  ovcr-exercisc  of  the  brain*  Men  engaged  in  anxious  eailingw,  or  in 
.intense  mental  exertion ^  are  bad  subjects  in  fever,  and  bear  the  stimulating 
treatment  imperfectly." 

I  quote  this  because  experience  has  led  me  to  the  same  conclusion, 
— that  is,  in  general,  that  the  effect  of  alcohol  diiimg  febiile  illness 
differs  much  in  cbfferent  classes  of  people.  But  whilst  we  calmly 
consider  such  a  question,  it  is  to  others  rendered  a  theme  of  insuffer- 
able repulsion  by  the  glaring  excesses  of  its  more  violent  and  obvious 
effects  in  drunkards.  And  the  reaction  from  the  reahties  of  hideous 
intoxication  gives  rise  in  the  minds  of  excellent  people  to  a  recoil 
into  a  deliberately  extreme  opposition  to  an  agent  capable  of  such 
•appalling  nuBcliief, 

Consider  for  a  moment  either  extreme.  Take  a  case,  A  gentleman 
came  before  me  to  know  what  further  be  might  do  to  have  health. 
His  conscience  so  far  was  well  in  his  favour.  Two  years  before  he 
bad  consulted  a  great  authority,  and  bad  been  told  to  live  on  fish  and 
whole-meal  bread,  and  to  diink  water*  He  bad  done  so  ever  since ; 
how  observantly,  was  written  in  his  white  face.  He  looked  a  com- 
rpound  of  whole-meal,  fish,  and  water.  What  more  could  he  do^  now 
that  be  was  much  weaker, — scarcely  able  to  do  hie  day's  work?  He 
was  evading  opportunities  of  usefulness,  and  living  in  dread  through 
bis  sense  of  prostration,  all  this  in  the  patient  endeavour  to  feel  strong 
by  overmuch  self-denial.  But  the  other  extreme  is  better  known  and 
Justly  dreaded.  The  man  who  would  feel  strong  by  overmuch  seli- 
indulgence,  and  has  become  subject  to  intoxication  mania,  he  is 
never  very  far  from  you.  Try  arguments  on  him,  if  you  wish  to  set 
up  hi  your  mind  a  refined  ideal  of  tantalizing  hopelessness.  None  so 
reasonable  when  sober,  so  explanatoiy,  so  promising ;  such  a  nice  man 
to  talk  to.  But  meet  liini  when  on  the  drink,  and  then  try  yom^  in* 
tluence.  The  beloved  wife  may  join  her  hands  imploringly;  his  pallid, 
starving  children  may  look  timidly  up  in  bis  face;  he  goes  by  to  ruiu 
himself  and  all,  as  you  go  through  cobwebs  on  a  fresh  September 

Either  of  these  extremes  is  in  its  own  way  baneful,  thongh  in 
different  degrees.  The  drunkard  revolts  eveiy  feehng  of  humanity  in  i 
the  most  positive  maimer.  He  who  lives  under  terror  of  indulgenco  I 
lives  short  of  full  Hfe,  and  of  the  good  be  might  be  to  others.  His 
co-inmates  at  home  could  show  how  his  eelf-involved  bearing,  if  it  did  , 
himself  no  harm,  yet  frets  into  j>ettiness  half  the  life  of  those  hoj 
lives  with. 

What  would  not  one  do  or  give  to  set  right  these  forms  pf  appa*] 



itly  wautoa   eiTor? — blaeting,    on   the  one  hand,  or  Btunting   or 
\rarpiiig,  on  the  other,  the  manhood  of  men. 

Good  people  are  ready  to  prove  by  their  deeds  how  ranch  they  will 
*do  to  remedy  the  extreme  best  knoAim  to  them.     They  try  and  save 
l^e  dnmkardby  forming  Bands  of  Hope  or  of  Good  Templars,  vowing 
♦Btemly  to  forego  all  the  pleasnres  and  profit,  if  any,  that  are  got  from 
:4ilcohoUc  stimulants,  hoping  thus  to  arrest  the  vice  of  drunkenness. 
*Such  self-denial  from  such  a  motive  is  worthy  of  all  honour.    And  all 
men  bless  them»  and  wish  them  the  euccess  they  fully  deserve.    But  the 
truth  must  be  said  that  theii*  success  is  deplorably  small  as  estimated 
T>y  the  number  of  dnmkards  they  reclaim.     Experienced  men  say 
l^hcy  have  never  known  a  dnmkard  permanently  reclaimed*     The  tee- 
total organizations  show  considerable  apparent  achievement  when  they 
I  turn  to  prevent  the  use  of  liquor  by  those  who  have  shown  no  ten- 
•dency  to  abuse  it 

But  unhappily  there  is  a  drawback  to  this  kind  of  gain,  to  illustrate 
which  I  will  give  one  more  case,     A  poor  honest  working  cooper  in 
the  Borough,  who  had  a  wife  and  three  children,  had  injured  his  ankle 
with  one  of  his  tools.      The  wound  festered,  and  his  constitution 
T>eeame  involved  in  some  degree  of  fever.     He  was  pale,   nnder- 
Bouiished,  and  tremulous,  and  we  judged  it  absohitely  necessary  that 
Ke  should  at  once  have  ^-ine  or  brandy  to  carry  him  on  through  his 
'^illnees.    But  he  refused  to  touch  anything  containing  alcohol:  he 
had  signed  the  pledge.     Wine  was  sent  disguised  as  medicine.     He 
found  it  out,  and  then  would  take  no  medicine.     He  died  in  a  few 
I  •days,     I  am  as  sure  as  one  can  be  sure  of  any  such  thing  that  he  died 
because  he  would  not  have  the  help  stimulants  would  have  given  him, 
I  could  nut  but  respect  the  poor  man,  and  shall  never  forget  him.     He 
showed  character  worthy  a  better  end.     I  think  I  have  never  forgiven 
the  teetotallers  the  loss  of  that  fine  fellow.    It  induced  me  to  invent 
the  term  intemperate  abstinence.    The  fact  is  that  we  have  to  recog- 
nize in  a  part  of  the  population  a  disposition  to  extremes  of  which 
i -Grittier  is  intemperate.      The  common  rough  rule  has  been   to   let 
these  extremes  take  care  of  each  other.      And  at  first  glance  it  might 
fteeem  that  this  is  not  a  bad  plan.     But  it  is  a  little  unfair  if  the 
idnd  of  people  who  suffer  from  teetotal  influence  are  most  liable  to 
fall  under  such  influence,  whikt  they  least  need  the  protection  it 

In  short,  I  believe  that  to  a  large  extent  teetotalism  lays  fij-mest 

"bold  on  those  who  are  least  Hkely  ever  to  become  drunkards,  and 

J  .are   most  likely  to  want  at  times  the  medicinal  use   of  alcohol — 

I  .sBensitive*  gOod-uat\ired  people,  of  weak   constitution,  to  whom  the 

•Sacred  Ecclesiast  directed  his  strange-sounding  but  needful  advice, 

'*  Be    not  righteous   over  much,   neither  make    thyself   over- wise: 

why  fihouldst  thou   destroy  thyself?"      He   to  whom  that    advice 

eeems  necessarily  ii-onical  as  directed  to  human  beings  does  not  know 



the  nature  and  weaknessee  of  many  of  his  fellows.  For  tho  place  of  a 
good  conscience  is  easily  taken  by  a  kind  of  triple  monster,  one  side 
of  which  is  always  barking,  Thou  shah  be  clever ;  another,  Tkoit  shaU 
he  good-looking  ;  the  third,  Thou  shall  he  wilhoid  fault  :^ — perhaps  the 
three  beasts  which  drove  Dante  back  from  his  way  np  the  hilh  Anct 
any  one  entirely  under  the  power  of  either,  and  still  more  of  all  of 
them  (though  as  to  the  first  and  third  one  is  apt  to  silence  the  other), 
Biicli  an  one  needs  help  almost  as  badly  as  a  sot  needs  help,  whikt  he 
is  too  ready  to  grasp  at  any  qnackery  to  obtain  it. 

To  meet  the  evils  of  intemperance  in  a  few  by  stem  refusal  to  allow 
wine  to  any  is  like  the  Stoic  plan  of  striving  by  repression  of  eveiy 
sentiment  and  feeling  of  the  mind  to  take  away  the  annoyance  of 
occasional  turbulent  emotion,  or  like  Mohammed's  plan  of  raaldng  his 
folio wei-s  honest  by  disallowing  the  profits  of  tmde.  Some  limitation 
of  per-centage  of  dividends  might  perhaps  save  Chiistians  from  each 
other.  But  all  extreme  rules  of  repression  must  fail  becanse  people 
won't  endure  rules  which  rob  individual  character  of  its  elasticity  and 
social  life  of  its  charm. 

Teetotalizing  A,  the  good  man^  to  save  B,  the  act,  is  thromng  good 
after  bad.     The  sot  is  not  worth  it*     He  may  be  deser\4ng  of  the  pity 
often  bestowed  on  him;   all   crime  has  its  pitiful  side.     But  as  to- 
saving  him !     Before  committing  yourself  to  a  life-long  course  with 
such  a  quest   it  would  be  well  to  ask  ao  oracle*     The  right  oracle 
would  be  Morbid  Anatomy,     That  oracular  science  claims  the  sot. 
^\Tien  the  sot  has  descended  through  his  chosen  coui-se  of  imbecility,  or 
dropsy,  to  the  dead-hoitse,  Morbid  Anatomy  is  ready  to  receive  him— j 
knows  him  well.     At  the  post-mortem  she  would  say,  '*  Liver  hard  and  j 
nodulated.     Brain  dense  and  small ;  its  covering  thick."     And  if  yon 
would  listen  to  her  unattractive  but  interesting  tale,  she  would  trace] 
throughout  the  sot  s  body  a  series  of  changes  %vliich  leave  uualtered 
no  part  of  him  worth  speaking  of     She  would  tell  you  that  the  once  i 
delicate,  filmy  texture  which,  when  he  was  young,  had  sun-ounded ' 
Kke  a  pure  atmosphere  every  fibre  and  tube  of  his  mechanism*  making-] 
him  lithe  and  supple,  has  now  become  rather  a  dense  fog  than  a  pure] 
atmosphere  r— dense  stuff,  which,  instead  of  lubricating,  has  closed  in  j 
upon  and  crushed  out  of  existence  more-and-more  of  the  fibres  and  i 
tubes,  especially  in  the  brain  and  liver :  whence  the  imbecility  and 
the  dropsy. 

And  ilorbid  Anatomy  w^oiild  give  evidence  that  such  was  the  state  | 
of  the  dninkard  long  before  he  died.     So  that  in  vain  you  get  him  to 
sign  tlie  pledge.     lie  signs  too  easily,  because  his  brain  is  shrunken, 
and  therefore  he  cannot  reflect.     And  he  breaks  his  pledge  imme*  J 
diately,  because  his  brain  is  shrunken  and  his  membranes  thick,  and  j 
therefore  he  has  no  continuity  of   purpose  and  will.      The  limatie  i 
asylum  is  truly  the  only  proper  place  for  him.    But,  unhappily  for  his 
friends,  he  has  partial  intervals  of  sottish  repentance ;  and  the  law 



obooses  to  do  nothing  to  protect  them  from  the  cmrse  and  ruin  of  hie 

Now,  seeing  how  hopeless  m  this  sot,  if  you  ask  the  next  natural 
question,  Why  did  he  become  a  sot  ?  you  must  direct  your  inquiry  to 
some  other  oracle.  If  you  ask  Morbid  Anatomy  why  the  deceased 
under  inspection  had  become  a  drunkard,  what  does  that  science  sayl 
The  reply  will  be  that,  after  using  the  scalpel  and  the  forceps,  and 
staining  very  tMn  slices  of  the  brain  many  fine  colours,  and  then 
-Bpying  down  microscopes  of  wonderful  power  at  the  slices,  and  taking 
the  specific  gravity  of  the  brain,  she  cannot  tell  you  why  the  poor 
man  became  a  drunkard— you  must  ask  elsewhere.  Indeed,  it  is 
wonderful  the  things  that  Morbid  Anatomy  cannot  find  any  signs  of 
at  the  post-mortem.  She  does  not  distinguish  between  Queen's  Counsel 
and  potman.  She  inspected  the  body  of  Napoleon  IIL,  and  recorded 
thus : — "  The  brain  and  its  membranes  were  perfectly  natural."  No 
fragments  or  traces  of  broken  empire  visible  to  the  highest  micro- 
scopic abilities-  So  what  chance  that  such  abilities  would  be  able  to 
answer  you  when  you  asked  Morbid  Anatomy  whether  that  sot  had 
ever  signed  the  pledge,  and,  if  so,  how  many  times?  If  you  ask  his 
friends,  you  will  probably  learn  that  he  had  signed  half-a-dozen  or  a 
dozen  times.  They  hardly  noticed  the  last  few  times  i  he  had  often 
signed  of  late,  being  as  ready  for  intemperate  abstinence  as  for  the 
opposite  form  of  intemperance. 

Yet  we  want  to  know  why  the  sot  became  a  drunkard.  If  Morbid 
Anatomy  knows  nothing  about  it^  whom  shall  we  ask  ?  Our  friends 
the  teetotallers  press  their  answer :  It  was  because  of  the  hquor. 
Well,  of  course,  if  there  were  no  liquor,  or  if  he  could  have  been 
excluded  from  it,  he  could  not  have  dnuik  himself  into  a  sot. 
That  IS  clear.  But  it  is  nothing  new  of  powerful  arguments  to  find 
that  they  do  not  apply  to  the  case  in  point.  Who  was  he  before 
he  became  a  sot  I  One  of  the  people ;  an  equal  amongst  equals* 
And  to  exclude  him  from  Hquor,  you  must  exclude  his  equals  the 
people.  But  liis  equals  the  people  will  not  be  excluded.  Persons  of 
ordinary  self-respect  and  self-reliance  will  not  undertake  a  pledge  of 
intemperate  abstinence — ^much  more  ^ill  not  be  forced  into  it.  In 
fact,  teetotal  comprises  but  a  small  portion  of  the  community^di-\*ided 
into  three  sections  of  character :  firstly,  those  strong,  good-natured 
men  who  sign  on  philantlu-opic  grounds ;  secondly,  weaker,  sensitiv©- 
minded  persons,  who  are  influenced  to  sign,  but  who  generally  require 
a  little  stimulant  when  out  of  health  ;  and  thirdly,  sots  in  their  phases 
of  repentance.  And  we  need  go  beyond  the  nmve  view  of  these  good 
people,  who  only  think  of  the  liquor  and  the  thirsty  if  we  are  to 
reach  any  more  searching  and  thorough  solution  of  our  grave  ques- 
tion, why  did  the  sot  on  the  post-mortem  table  drink  himself  to  death! 

You  might  try  the  question  on  some  sot  not  yet  dead,  aud  ask 
him  why  he  drank  thus  criminally.      But  you  would  find  him  an 

VOL.  ZXSIV.  h 



irreclaimable  liar  ;  he  would  say  he  drank  only  very  little  indeed ;  liad 
had  none  the  last  few  days.  Why  did  he  take  it  ?  Oh,  he  felt  so  low 
he  could  not  do  without  it.  You  may  leave  off  questioning  him. 
HiB  brain  is  6hi*unkeUj  and  his  membranes  thick. 

To  learn  why  the  sot  di^ank  we  must  tm-n  to  some  science  which, - 
whilst  it  treats  of  man^  does  not  ignore  the  differences  between  mau 
and  man.  Is  there  no  seience  which  touches  the  difference  between  a 
Queen  8  Counsel  and  a  potman '?  Do  all  sciences  agree  in  saying  that 
as  far  as  they  are  concerned  there  is  no  difference  ?  We  know  science 
has  a  levelling  tendency. 

We  are  not  without  a  considerable  number  of  sciences  nowadays 
which  consider  man  in  various  aspects.     There  is  anthropology,  the- 
science  of  the  varieties  of  man  as  a  species,  and  of  his  place  amongst 
the  apes.     This  will  not  do  for  us ;  Queen's  Counsel  and  potman  ar© 
all  one  among  the  apes  of  anthropology.    Then  there  is  ethnology,  a-  j 
respectable  old  science,  which  studies  races  of  men  with  more  regard 
to  their  himian  side.     But  it  ignores  the  individuals,  and  will  not  help 
us.     Then  there  is  something  soi-dhaut  **  social  eciencej"  which  is  an 
attempt  of  people  to  deal  scientifically  with  things  before  they  know 
them;   and  Science  ia  not  in  her  element  when  dealing  with  the 
unknown.     It  is  a  science  of  things-in-general,  without  much  regard 
to  particulars,  and  will  not  help  us.     But  there  are  also  sciences  bear—  ] 
ing  on  individual  man.     There  are  the  old  mental  and  moral  philo-- 
Sophies,  as  well  as  the  new  material  philosophy,  not  neoessaiily  morale 
which  latter  will  explain  the  human  mind  by  a  series  of  considerations*  ] 
foimded  on  the  responsive  jerks  obtained  by  tickling  a  decapitated 
frog.     These  philosophies  have  to  oppose  each  other.     The  cut^and- 
dry  discussions  of  mental  philosophy  i\dll  not  avail  ns.     It  is  a  sciencer  ^ 
in  which  the  things  are  subordmate  to  the  names,  and  it  would  be 
just  as  well  if  it  resolved  itself  into  a  dictionary  of  moderate  size. 

What  we  want  is  some  science  that  will  place  before  us,  in  » 
methodical  way,  the  grounds  of  human  motive,  so  as  to  enable  us  ta 
estimate  the  forces  for  and  against  indulgence  in  the  hves  of  men. 

There  is  one  science  I  have  not  named.     Its  title  is  promising,  and 
it  might  prove  the  proper  oracle  for  us  to  considt.     That  science  Li  I 
psychology.    But  I  do  not  quite  know  where  its  oracle  is  situated.    It 
has  a  journal,  like  most  sciences  nowadays,  but  in  its  journal,  although 
there  is  much  writing  about  the  subject,  one  finds  but  Uttle  upon  it. 

There   are  psychologists  I  suppose,  for  I  remember  once  taking 
up  from  the  drawing-room  table  of  a  young  ladies'  school  a  book  oa 
the  back  of  which  was  printed^  *'  The  Suijeclion  of  Women^'^  and  I  wa»  1 
about  to  look  into  it,  hoping  to  find  some  better  way  of  subjecting 
them,  when,  in  the  page  I  chanced  upon,  the  fii'st  thing  that  caught , 
my  eye  was,  " and  doctors  are  not  psT/chohgUti"    This  set  me  musing, 
imtil  I  closed  the  book,  and  do  not  know  to  this  day  what  means  of  J 
better  keeping  women  in  their  places  the  author^ — lli\  Mill,  I  think—' 



had  to  propose.   Evidently  Mr.  MiU  thought  some  people  are  "peycho- 
lo^ste,"  if  doctors  are  not. 

For  the  subjection  of  women^  I  doubt  but  their  old  fiiend  Cupid  is 
the  best  psychologist;  and  a  far  kinder  friend  than  those  twaddling 
polygyniekophiles  of  the  London  Umvereity-senate,  who  tempt  poor 
Psyche  iuto  the  hard  struggle  for  their  degrees.  And  then,  if  she  suc- 
ceeds, call  her  a  Bachelor  and  a  Master,  as  if  she  were  a  man.  And 
then  shut  the  door  of  their  lower  house  in  her  face,  when,  all  the 
while,  the  only  right  of  male  masters  to  enter  that  door  is  the  degree, 
of  which  Psyche  may  have  the  pains,  but  not  the  profit.  Cupid  never 
served  poor  Psyche  so.  Only  senescent  pedants  of  a  ^vrinkly  age 
outliving  young  Cupid^  an  age  when  women  soften  the  head  even 
more  than  the  heart— only  such  doting  gyncekophiles  would  think  this 
a  cure  for  the  **  subjection  of  women." 

But  I  digi^ess,  and,  in  short,  it  appeal's  that  we  cannot  discover  a 
science  that  will  help  us,  and  in  the  meantime  it  may  be  well  to  do 
the  best  one  can  to  settle  for  oneself  the  question  why  the  unfortunate 
deceased  took  to  drinking  t 

In  consideriag  the  mind  of  man,  so  as  to  study  the  causes  of 
dnuikenneaa^  we  mi28t  staii:  from  this  principle,  wthout  a  just  appre- 
ciation of  which  we  cannot  understand  the  iormation  of  human 
character, — the  principle  that  every  individual  exists  iu  two  distinct 
phaees  :  phases  which  are  distinct  to  whatever  depth  you  analyse  the 
character  of  man,  and  which  remain  distinct  throughout  every  develop- 
ment and  extension  of  him,  however  manifold  his  powers  become. 
These  phases  may  be  difficult  to  name,  but  they  are  not  difficult  to 
identify  and  recognize,  and  I  care  more  for  things  than  for  words. 
One  of  these  phases  is  the  man  as  the  subject  or  seat  of  his  own 
natural  emotions,  and  the  other  is  the  man  as  the  seat  or  subject,  or 
object,  or  what  you  will,  of  what  other  people  make  him  know  and 
feel.  I  mean  the  man  as  a  seat  of  the  set  of  feehngs  that  make  up 
conscious  life ;  and  the  man  as  a  noit,  under  influences  dominating  \ 
his  spontaneous  powers.  The  man  feeling,  seeing,  enjo;)4ng,  sufler- 
ing;  and  the  man  held  by  the  influence  of  other  minds  and  compelled 
by  them  to  reflect  their  feelings  and  eights  and  enjoyments  and 
suflferings^  not  as  he  chaoses  but  as  they  choose ;  so  setting  up  within 
him  reflections  of  their  feelings  and  views  and  enjoyinents,  which 
compete  with  his  own  natural  feelings  and  views  and  enjoyments,  €ind ! 
are  often  antagonistic  to  theee  darlings  of  his  nature. 

How  shall  I  best  express  this  antithesis  ?  Perhaps  if  I  call  the  feel- 
ings, views,  &c.>  imposed  on  the  individual  by  society,  **  common 
flense,^'  it  will  be  best.  Many  people  use  this  term  vaguely^  and  half 
fancy  it  means  vnlgar  or  ordinaiy  sense.  But  common  sense*  meaas 
the  sense  capable  of  being  common  to  two  or  more  individuals ;  in 
ehortj  the  sense  we  seek  to  impose  on  each  other  and  are  impatient  if 
we  do  not  succeed.     Let  tis  then  call  the  sense  imposed  on  the 

L  2 



individual  by  hi8  fellows  cmnmon  sense,  and  the  sense  which  the  iadi- 
vidiial  hae  naturally  ivithin  him  as  hia  own  native  bent  to  this  or  that 
feeling  mdwidual  sense. 

If  yon  want  to  thoroughly  realise  this  division  of  the  feelings  within, 
you  may  look  to  the  lowest  or  the  highest  of  your  mental  life.  At  its 
lowest,  individual  eeiise  is  that  sense  which  makes  yon  think  it  is  worth 
while  for  Natiu^e  to  keep  you  alive ;  and  that  there  is  a  great  deal  in 
your  particular  self  wldch  makes  it  worth  more  consideration  than  the 
selves  of  other  people.  On  the  other  hand,  common  sense  is  that 
sense  which  will  very  readily  do  without  you  shortly  after  you  are 
gone.  This  is  their  meanest  and  least  worthy  field  of  opposition. 
Look  now  at  their  opposition  when  in  their  highest  refinement.  In  its 
highest  refinement  the  individual  sense  asserts  its  claim  to  govern 
plnlosophy :  much  to  the  disgust  of  common  sense.  The  philosophy 
of  individual  sense  is  the  intuitive  philosophy :  the  philosophy  of  the 
man  feehng  that  good  and  right  arc  truths  of  nature  within  him. 
The  philosophy  of  common  sense  is  the  utilitarian  philosophy.  In  the 
common-sense  month  of  Hobbes  it  says,  **  Good  and  evil  are  names 
that  signify  our  appetites  and  aversions."  In  that  of  Locke,  it  says, 
**  Good  and  evil  are  nothing  but  pleasure  and  pain/'  In  Bentham, 
"  Take  away  pleasure  and  pain  -  ,  .  .  and  .  ,  .  .  justice, 
duty,  and  virtue,  are  empty  sounds."  In  Helvetius,  "  II  Ini  est  aussi 
impossible  d' aimer  le  bien  ponr  le  bien  que  d'aimer  le  mal  pour  le 
mal.**  Tliis  philosophy  is  the  philosophy  of  men  looking  at  their  neigh- 
bom's  with  the  common  sense  which  then  fellows  have  implanted  in 
them.  They  see  their  neighbour  or  by  reflection  see  themselves,  and 
their  attention  is  upon  the  individual,  regarding  him  as  he  goes  to 
what  he  thhiks  good  or  pleasant  and  recedes  from  what  he  thinks 
bad  or  painful.  And  they  see  that  it  is  surely  a  matter  of  going  or 
coming,  attraction  or  repulsion,  whether  you  call  it  good  or  pleasure, 
bad  or  pain.  And  so  it  clearly  is  from  that  point  of  view.  But  it 
equally  surely  is  not  so,  if  instead  of  the  notion  of  an  outsider  attracted 
or  repelledj  yon  contemplate  within,  and  in  your  individual  sense  feel 
that  the  feeling  of  goodness  in  your  act  is  not  the  same  as  the  feeling 
of  pleasantness. 

So  neither  of  these  **  philosophies "  convinces  the  other,  nor  ever 
will  until  the  millenninm.  Next  note  tlxis  important  truth,  that  indi- 
vidual sense  and  common  sense  compete  with  and  oppose  each  other 
for  power  over  the  stores  of  memory.  So  that,  accortling  to  their 
respective  hold  upon  those  stores,  the  mans  readiness  fur  use  by  him- 
self and  others  is  difi^erent  in  diflerent  people.  A  person  who  has 
strong  iodi\ndual  sense — ^wlnch  is  much,  but  not  quite,  the  same  as 
-saying  an  emotional,  vivid  person — reaches  best  the  stores  he  has  in  his 
memory  when  his  emotional  nature  is  aroused  and  Hvely.  Otherwise 
there  is  darkness  in  his  chambers  of  iuiageiy.  If  an  actor  or  speaker, 
h©  acts  or  speaks  best  when  not  dyspeptic  and  dull.     On  the  other 



hand,  a  man  whose  senee  is  cWeflj  that  common  to  himself  and  others, 
a  kind  of  man  who  never  means  more  than  other  people  say — which  is 
much  the  same,  bnt  not  quite  the  same,  as  saying  a  dull  common-sense 
kind  of  man— has  the  advantage  of  posseeBing  what  he  has  in  a  way 
independent  of  his  feelings  at  the  time.  He  does  not  want  a  spirit 
lamp  to  light  the  ehambei*8  of  his  imager^-.  Despises  it.  It  is  diffuse 
daylight  in  such  a  mind.  There  is  no  mifairly  kind  illumination 
of  one  side  of  things,  as  there  m  when  the  light  radiates  from  a 
glowing  centre. 

Now  memory  needs  to  be  understood .  JIany  suppose  that  when  they, 
after  a  long  interval  of  time,  remember  anything  they  remember  the 
thing  itself;  they  think  they  go  right  back  and  touch  the  thing  with 
their  memory.  But  see  if  this  be  so.  Rather  when  a  thing  occurs 
which  is  to  be  one  of  the  few  things  long  remembered, — such  as  your 
first  meeting  those  lovely  eyes^  &c., — the  thing  comes  again  in  the  mind 
because  it  made  so  much  impression,  and  then  it  comes  again— no,  not 
it,  but  the  fonner  recollection  of  it :  partial,  and  tinted,  and  spotted, 
as  if  seen  through  a  bad  glass,  so  that  you  want  to  see  those  lovely 
eyes  again. 

And  if  this  poor  memoiy  of  the  thing  does  not  come  a  second  time 
into  the  mind  it  cannot  a  third.  Of  course  !  you  say.  Very  well; 
but  your  **  of  course "  ought  not  to  be  so  easj^  as  not  to  perceive 
that  this  explains  the  fewness  of  the  memories  that  remain  from 
femote  life,  and  the  distinctness  (apparent)  of  the  few  that  persist* 
For  if  memoiy  went  back  and  touched  the  bygone  things,  why  should 
it  not  equally  touch  all  the  things  you  once  dwelt  upon  t  Yet  how 
limited  is  the  mnge  of  memoiy  into  the  distant  past.  And  whyT 
because  it  reaches  not  the  things  of  the  distant  past  directly,  but  only 
by  the  steps  which  its  former  acts  planted  in  the  intervaL  So  that  it 
eteps  by  its  last  step  to  its  last  but  one,  and  so  on  and  on»  And 
where  it  has  stepped  often  enough  it  can  step  again  towards  a  long 
bygone  incident.  But  where  it  has  never  stepped  it  cannot  after 
a  certain  lapse  of  time  step  at  all,  but  so  much  of  the  past  is  in 
oblivion.     Hence  you  must  ponder  upon  what  you  want  to  remember. 

Now,  as  to  these  steps  of  memoTj\  When  that  which  recalls  the 
bygone  incident  is  the  indi^adual  sense — that  is,  the  spontaneous  life  of 
the  mind^ — then  this  step  of  memory  is  only  available  for  future  use  of 
the  individual  sense  or  spontaneous  life.  WTien  common  sense— that  is, 
the  external  influence  of  othem— raises  reflective  knowledge  of  a  thing 
in  the  mind,  and  this  knowledge  is  remembered,  the  step  of  memory 
is  imder  the  power  of  common  sense. 

And  in  different  minds  individual  sense,  or  common  sense,  may  so 

■preponderate  that  in  one  man  the  ways  of  memory  are  chiefly  under 

•individual  sense,  or  the  spontaneous  life  of  the  mind.       Such  are, 

amongst  actors,  those  the  late  Mr,  Phelps  called  "  stomach  actora," 

who  act  well  when  not  low  and  dyspeptic.     On  the  other  hand,  in 



some  people  the  momon^  is  nearly  all  under  common  seBse,  and  has  to 
be  questioned  out  by  external  inHneuce  or  requirements. 

Now  every  act  of  memory  imder  individual  eenee  makes  a  stepping- 
stone  whereon  the  spontaneous  life  of  the  mind  may  travel  in  the  future. 
Likewise  as  to  common  sense.  Thus  is  the  plan  of  the  mind  enriched 
in  either  case,  and  common  sense  has  its  ways,  and  indi\4dual  sense 
its  ways  ;  but  individual  sense  is  the  spontaneouB  life  of  the  mind,  and 
what  it  lays  hold  upon  constitutes  the  lustre  of  the  individuahty  if 
any.  The  labyrinth  of  its  memories  is  yourself, — ^your  identity  in  the 
lapse  of  years.  By  the  repetition  of  its  acts  of  recall  one  year 
certifies  another,  reaching  and  continuing  the  memories  transmitted 
through  from  before.  On  its  longest  worn  tracks  you  travel  easiest, 
hence  old  age  remembers  the  long  remembered  things. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  things  taught  you  by  the  flense  imposed  on 
you  by  others  are  put  together,  at  school  and  otherwise,  like  the  pai*ts 
of  a  building,  eo  that  yon  are  thus  so  far  edified  or  buOt  up,  put  together 
under  the  effort  of  your  will ;  eflbrt  which  is  often  painfnL  Look  at  the 
face  of  a  schoolboy  at  sums,  if  yon  don't  remember  the  pains  you  took. 
What  is  thus  put  together  by  the  will  is  reached  by  effort  of  the  wiU* 
These  are  the  things  othem  can  demand  of  you  and  expect  yon  to  know. 
But  the  individual  sense  is  a  different  kind  of  thing,  and  goes  to 
work  a  very  different  kind  of  way — a  way  of  it-s  own.  Its  duty  in  the 
mind  is  of  an  importance  that  is  overlooked  by  common  sense.  Com- 
mon sense  never  understands  the  individual.  No  individual  ever  thinka 
himself  quite  properly  understood  ;  that  is  why  he  goes  on  making  a 
fuss,  political  or  otherwise.  If  an  eloquent  man,  in  vain  he  promisee 
silence.  The  long-practised  phrases  must  flow.  They  must  take  some 
form  or  another.  Jnst — if  I  may  compare  humble  things  Avith  exalted 
— as  in  the  case  of  your  cook  with  his  weU-ecasoned  *'stock."  Anything 
may  be  had  on  short  notice ;  so  that  if  you  want  oxt>sdl,  the  tail  can  be 
pnt  in,  and  yon  have  oxtail.     But  pray  take  something. 

The  individual  sense  has  to  make  what  is  called  a  self^  or  ego^ 
or  tcA,  or  moi-nieme^  out  of  scraps  and  fmgment«,  wliich  are  the 
experience  of  **  one  s  '*  life.  Think  how  you  believe  your  mind  to 
be  one  continuous  thing.  Yet  how,  pmy,  did  it  become  so  '?  Was 
it  continuous  in  the  origin  and  course  of  its  activity?  The  life 
of  one*8  mind  is  a  most  broken  thing.  Fii-st,  it  is  banded  by  sleep 
with  darkness  across  its  Hght,  as  a  tiger  is  striped.  And  as  to  its 
waking  times,  the  individual  sense  flits  from  object  to  object,  catch- 
ing this  into  conecionsness,  then  that,  with  intervals  between  the 
ghmpees :  glimpses  now  of  what  the  eye  sees,  now  of  what  the  ear  hears, 
now  of  what  is  bygone,  as  you  **  think  '*  of  one  thing  after  another : 
the  memory  ser^ang  you  with  views  tinted  or  spotted  by  your  relation 
with  the  tiling  remembered,  so  that  you  sec  imperfectly  imiar  speadi 
inequalis.  Thus,  as  you  ponder,  attention  fastens  upon  this  or  that 
revolving  in  your  mind,  and  if  there  is  *'  much  in  you/'  the  revolving 



IS  large  and  active,  and  if  you  are  "sonnd"  it  is  fixed  on  true  things, 
things  capable  of  certainty.  But  some  things  not  capable  of  certainty 
mnst  have  a  share  of  attention,  or  you  lose  the  element  of  good  luck. 
Luck  requires  a  power  of  attention  to  things  not  capable  of  certainty. 
That  is  the  reason  why  those  who  put  all  their  attention  into  things 
capable  of  cei*tainty,  over-scientific  students,  turn  out  so  very  unlucky 
in  after-life. 

But  how  do  you  suppose  these  scraps  in  your  consciousness  join 
themselves  into  an  ego  or  self,  a  **  miod  "  which  seems  to  every  one  to  be 
one  continuous  thing  ?  Yon  cannot  find  an  analogy  for  it,  unless  you 
remember  how  the  glowing  end  of  a  bui-^oing  stick  when  whirled  round 
quickly  looks  like  a  bright  ring;  or  how  as  you  go  quickly  by  a  park- 
paling  the  chinks  in  it  show  you  a  continuous  ^'iew  of  the  park  on  the 
other  [side.  Each  chink  gives  you  a  small  part,  but  the  eye  has  a 
power  of  gathering  these  parts  together,  and  making  the  park  on  the 
other  side  of  the  paling  appear,  as  it  is,  continuous.  It  is  the  same 
power  of  the  eye  (really  weakness  of  it)  which  you  remember  in  the 
thaumatrope ;  that  spinning  toy  with  a  jockey  on  one  side  of  the  card 
and  a  horse  on  the  other,  which,  when  yoo  spun  it,  put  the  jockey  on 
the  horse ;  or  that  more  wonderful  elaboration  of  the  same  thing  in 
the  wheel,  that,  whilst  you  looked  through  chinks  in  it  at  the  pictures 
inside,  and  the  wheel  was  going  round-and-rouud  can-ying  the  chinks 
before  your  eye,  made  the  people  in  the  pictures  hand  their  heads  to 
each  other,  or  give  away  each  other's  legs  all  round. 

There  is  in  your  mind  a  power  that  does  the  same  by  the  scraps 
which  come  into  it  daily.    And  this  power  is  the  iadiWdual  sense.     It 

^creates  the  circle  of  oneness  in  you*  Your  mind  acts  the  thaumatrope. 
In  some  the  spin  is  fa8t»  in  others  slow.  As  the  circle  made  by  the 
revolving  spark  arises  in  the  imperfection  of  vieiouj  so  the  circle  of 
oneness  of  the  mind  arises  in  imperfection,  which  cannot  follow  the 

*  causing  movement,  and  hence  asserts  a  settled  unity — the  indi- 
vidual sense.  Now  be  sure  that  the  common  sense  imposed  by  others 
would  never  create  an  individuality  in  the  mind.  It  does  not  spin,  and 
is  not  deceived  by  individuality ;  the  individuahty  is  made  by  the 
thaumatropic  spin  of  the  things  that  have  pleased  you  in  bygone 
tsme.  They  spin  into  oneness  because  the  quickness  of  that  which 
causes  your  mind  is  too  quick  for  your  mental  eye,  and  the  dance 
of  them  is  the  pleasure  of  your  Hfe  as  a  man,  as  distinguished  fi'om 
the  molluscan  pleasures  of  the  self-€upporting  appetites. 

We  are  getting  near  the  Queen's  Counsel  and  the  potman.     The 

•potinan  is  chiefly  molluscan,  with  a  thaumatrope  scarcely  worth 
gpeaking  of.  The  Queen's  Counsel  must  have  a  brilliant  thaumatrope, 
whirling  one  client  in  after  another,  and  making  them  hand  over 
almost  anything  except  their  heads  and  legs  upon  occaeioa.  And  this 
thaumatropic  spin  is  the  joy  of  life,  and  he  who  has  tasted  that  joy 

-will  not  be  easily  contented  short  of  its  realising  illusion.    How  does 


this  thauinatrope  begin  spiniiiiig  ?  and  what  keeps  it  going  ?  What  m 
the  effect  of  quickness  of  it  1  and  what  of  slowness  of  it  I  In  the  one 
case  life  is  vivad  and  bright,  but  in  the  other  you  seem  to  see  between 
the  scraps  of  which  the  show  is  made  up,  and  it  might  be  the  9th  of  1 
November,  For  the  chief  place  in  such  a  tawdiy  set-out  appeara 
plainly  not  worth  the  having,  Nay  !  you  would  not  be  a  Bishop,  or 
even  a  Judge,  and  as  to  what  you  are,  there  is  no  saying  how 
tiresome  it  is.  When  this  kind  of  weakening  and  spoiling  of  inch vi dual 
sense  has  taken  place  to  a  serious  extent,  the  person  is  what  is  called 
'*  morbid."  His  estimate  may  be  correct,  but  it  is  reached  by  weak- 
ness of  the  spin  of  his  \4tal  power,  and  hence  is  not  a  thing  to  give 
pride  or  pleasure.  AVho  then  can  help  him  %  He  may  go  to  a  frieud, 
and  try  to  get  his  thauraatrope  a  t\rirl  from  outside,  and  if  the  friend 
can  make  a  joke  or  two,  or  arouse  feeling  in  any  way,  there  may  be 
slight  temporary  revival ;  but  if  the  friend  has  only  common  sense  to 
offer,  that  won't  spin  the  thaumatrope.  All  the  influence  that  tha 
common  stock  of  sense  can  have  won't  raise  the  strength  of  the 
drooping  individuality.  The  common-sense  man  may  tell  you  what 
he  knows ;  but  perchance  you  know  more  than  he.  Perchance  you 
know  too  much.  And  knowledge  is  not  power  unless  there  is  indi- 
vidual sense  to  use  it. 

Such  experience  does  its  sufferer  at  least  this  good,  that  he,  for  the 
time  at  least,  knows  that  the  vigour  of  his  individuality  belongs  to 
nature,  and  is  a  thing  he  can  no  more  call  up  by  his  will,  than  he  can 
create  oxygen  or  gold.  Like  its  Maker  it  is,  and  it  is  what  it  is. 
This  reahty  is  the  best  and  the  worst  of  individual  sense. 

This  absolute  nature  of  the  individual  sense  when  at  its  best  exalts  i 
the  mind  of  a  man  so  that  he  becomes  a  seer  in  the  highest  meaning 
of  the  term.  Common  sense  levels  all  to  one  conunon  view.  Through- 
out history  they  have  contended,  and  tlu'onghont  social  life  they 
contend  now.  Among  the  lowly  and  numerous  it  in  preposterous 
not  to  be  subject  to  tlieir  common  sense.  In  exalted  life  too  much 
common  sense  leaves  unexplained  the  exaltation.  Common  sense  in  a 
Cabinet  of  Ministers  of  a  great  nation  unites  them  with  the  many. 
But  if  the  nation  has  to  gather  up  its  energies  to  a  supreme  act,  as  of ! 
one  individual  will,  too  much  common  sense  may  make  the  ships 
go  half-way  up  the  Straits  and  then  come  back.  True  Cassar  said, 
*'  Maxima  fortnna  minima  licentia  est.''  But  none  knew  better  than 
he  how  such  hcence  is  least  for  tergivei-eatile  common  sense. 

Doubtless,  if  you  wiU,  intlividual  sense  in  ordinary  minds  is  more 
likely  to  be  nonsense,  and  common  sense  good  sense.  But  their! 
opposition  should  lead  us  to  study  the  veiy  different  bases  of  power] 
or  influence  which  they  respectively  work  from.  Common  sense  can] 
take  good  care  of  itself  because  of  its  hold  on  the  language  under*] 
stood  by  the  numerous  and  lowly,  our  masters.  So  that  common  | 
sense  prevails  in  eommon  interests :  it  m  inimrealized^  if  I  may  coin  the 



word,  between  people*  Bui  individual  sense  being  the  life  of  the 
mind  has  ite  strength  in  the  man's  self  independently-  And  this  is  most 
mifortimate  when  unUvidnal  sense  is  morbid,  because  as  an  actual  sen- 
sation it  overpowers  common  sense  within  that  particular  mam  For 
common  sense  is  as  to  each  man  an  abstraction,  not  real  in  any  one, 
but  inteiTeaUzed  by  common  consent  of  two  or  more. 

Thus  an  individual  came  to  me  and  wanted  to  know  what  could  ba^  \ 
the  matter  with  him,  that  when  he  entered  a  room  or  a  church  some 
one  was  sure  to  cough  or  sneeze,  I  tried  common  sense  on  him, 
showed  that  when  a  good  many  people  are  under  the  influence  of 
each  other's  presence  the  chances  are  that  one  or  another  has  a  cougb 
or  a  sneeze  which  he  is  keeping  in  for  the  general  good,  but  which  a 
trifle  would  let  oflF,  especially  if  the  door  were  opened.  I  might  have 
talked  to  the  wind.  His  sensitive  emotional  nature  made  him  feel 
the  cough  or  sneeze  in  his  very  heart ;  but  what  I  said  only  went  into 
his  ears,  and  became,  at  best,  a  second-hand  reflective  aflair,  remote 
from  the  heart.     Common  sense  was  not  a  matter  of  feehng. 

Although  it  sounds  hke  a  paradox,  yet  it  is  true  that  common  sense 
does  not  keep  you  sane.  Saniii/  depends  on  correctness  of  that  iodi- 
Tidual  life  of  the  mind  which  I  have  called  imiimdiial  sense.  Many 
people  suppose  they  are  most  sane  when  they  think  hardest.  But 
sanity  is  an  aflfair  of  the  unreasoning  faculties.  And  you  think  youH 
way  out  of  it  easier  than  back  again. 

We  get  but  slowly  towards  the  question  why  the  sot  drank.  As 
yet  we  have  seen  that — 

1.  Individual  sense  and  common  sense  are  distinct  in  the  mind 
from  its  lowest  to  its  highest. 

2.  Individual  sense  and  common  sense  compete  for  powers  over  the* 
memoiy,  and  acts  of  memoiy  arising  from  either  throw  the  mind  under 
the  one  or  the  other,  so  that  some  minds  are  very  much  subject  to  the 
one  or  the  other. 

3.  Individual  sense  composes  the  unity  of  the  mind,  as  a  thauma- 
trope  composes  a  unity  for  the  eye,  and  it  is  subject  to  slow  times,  but 
prefers  quick  times. 

4.  Individual  sense  is  a  reaHty  within  the  man.  Common  sense  is 
an  interreahty  realized  between  men,  not  in  any  man. 

You  would  not  imderstand  all  this  from  the  cut'-and-dry  analysis  of 
mind  they  give  you  in  a  philosophy  class,  where  they  suppose  all 
people  to  be  alike.  True,  all  people  are  alike  in  a  way,  very  much  as 
spider-webs  are  alike ; — great  spider-webs  and  little  spider-webs,  with 
the  threads  pretty  similar,  and  always  mth  Mr.  Spider  ready  to- 
take  advantage  of  any  one  caught.  But  there  is  a  difference  in 
people's  inclination,  as  it  were,  which  word  itself  infers  that  if  you  did  not 
prop  them  up  they  would  fall  in  different  directions,  hke  similar  figures- 
with  their  centres  of  gravity  in  different  parts  of  them.  If  you  mak€ 
due  allowance  for  natural  inclination,  you  will  know  how  common*' 



eense  lias  lees  power  over  individuals  than  it  ia  customary  to  suppose. 
Life  is  one  long  contest  of  the  individuality  against  the  teachings  of 
common  sense*  The  schoolniaster  tries  to  teach  the  boy  the  things 
known  amongst  men  :  rational  trath;  the  interreality  which  founds  the 
floeial  world.  The  boy's  individnal  sense  seeks  constantly  to  escape ; 
straggles  eo  that  youngsters  with  strong  individuality  fairly  groan  over 
their  lessons. 

As  the  youth  comes  through  his  training  all  that  is  fresh  and 
young  and  individual  Btill  struggles  against  the  common  and  ac- 
cepted, otherwise  his  conBcioxisness  tells  him  machinery  will  master 
motive  power.  Here  comes  the  difference  between  Queen's  Counsel 
and  potman*  for  if  the  tutor  has  well  and  continuously  done  his  work, 
and  if  the  lad  has  proved  capable  of  yielding  the  individual  sense 
before  the  common  sense  in  due  degree,  then  true  adnltneas  is  at 
length  reached,  and  slowly  comes  that  great  change  of  personal  life, 
when  the  historv^  of  boyhood,  wliich  was  a  story  of  its  own  little 
Tecollections  of  itself,  becomes,  you  know  not  how,  converted,  so  that 
the  past  is  no  longer  his  past,  but  the  past  of  his  race  and  nation, 
^md  he  looks  back  to  the  dawn  of  human  history  and  does  not  even 
mark  the  time  when  his  personal  life  struck  in,  and  he  is  strengthened 
by  the  highest  and  best  that  is  common  amongst  men.  But  perhaps 
to  the  potman  this  change  never  comes.  Doubtless  many  never 
become  adult  in  this  noble  sense,  and  for  our  question  of  the  influence 
<}f  alcohol  we  must  recognize  this  difference  of  capacity  and  of 

To  make  a  Queen's  Counsel  you  need  both  strong  indi\ndual  sense 
and  much  capacity  for  common  sense,  A  just  combination  of  these 
constitutes  what  is  called  intelligence.  This  intelligence  is  supreme 
over  both  individual  and  common  sense,  above  their  highest,  above 
their  contending  philosophies,  intuitive  and  utilitarian,  InteUi' 
gence  has  no  pliilosophy.  For  purposes  of  expression  it  leans  to  the 
utiUtarian  philosophy,  as  being  most  expressible,  Diflferent  degrees  of 
common  and  individual  sense,  justly  proportioned,  constitute  different 
degrees  of  iiitelligence.  Amongst  Englishmen  this  state  of  balance 
is  fortunately  the  rule,  so  that  Englishmen  are  usually  intelligent,  if 
not  all  veiy  much  so.  In  Ireland  the  individual  sense  prevails. 
They  wage  war  as  individuals;  a  little  spmt  excites  them  much* 
In  Scotland,  common  sense  preponderates.  They  are  LiberalK,  and 
fond  of  education.  They  take  a  deal  of  whiskey  without  much 
hai-m.  Moderate  degrees  of  excess  of  individual  or  common  sense, 
such  as  those  to  be  met  in  average  Irishmen  and  Scotchmen, 
are  not  serious.  But  you  get  more  marked  disproportion  in  some 
minds.  Thus,  some  pei^sons  have  very  httle  indeed  of  individual 
aense,  but  they  have  large  capacity  for  common  sense.  These  are 
what,  when  young,  are  called  good  dull  boys,  and,  as  they  grow  up, 
make  up  into  good   mathematicians,  as   to  whom   Goldsmith's  and 



De  QuiDcey's  opinion  may  be  noted.     Other  persons  liave  neither! 
individual  sense  nor  fair  avemgo  capacity  for  common  sense.     These  - 
are  and  remain  dolte,  and,  -with  all  the  anionnt  of  other  people's 
money  that  School  Boards  may  spend  in  keeping  debased  Queen  Anne 
buildings  over  their  heads  when  young,  they  wiQ  make  very  good  ^ 
potmen.    Alcohol  does  not  do  them  much  harm,  nor  teaching  do  them 
much  good.    In  tlieir  fevei-s,  as  Dr.  Stokes  says,  they  bear  alcohol  ^ 
ivell — they  need  it.     Their  failing  is  a  want  of  external  support  to 
their  pluck  when  under  protracted  trial. 

Unhappily,  also,  you  may  get  strong  individual  sense  with  littlo  eapa-  ^ 
city  for  common  sense.     Here,  as  a  rule,  you  may  look  out  for  trouble  i 
of  some  kind.     These  are  the  bom  intempemte.     Their  intemperanof 
may  take  a  good  direction,  for  which  all  men  bless  theni»  and  call  them 
good  geniuses;  but  their  intemperance  may  take  a  turn  in  the  direction  ' 
of  self-indulgence,  and  if  you  are  to  save  them  you  must  recognize 
their  danger  early,  and  begin  early  with  your  means.     Keep  them 
from  alcohol.    JIake  them  sign  the  pledge.    They  readily  do  so,  being  I 
naturally  intemperate.     Watch  intemperance  in  childhood,  and  attend  | 
to  children  who  show  much  individual  sense.     Their  blood  is  too  i 
stimulating,  or  goes  too  freely  to  the  brain.    That  set  of  nerv^es,  which  ^ 
narrows  or  widens  the  blood-vessels,  controlling  the  supply  of  their 
elimnlating   contents  as  the  magistracy  controls  very  properly  the 
liceofled  victuallers,  allows  too  much  license  to  the  brain.    Such' 
children  get  almost  tipsy  on  their  own  spirits.     Not  that  individuality 
in  a  child  is  bad.    It  is  a  good  thing  if  balanced  by  sufficient  common 
sense.     See  that  it  is  so  by  impai'ting  common  sense  quickly,  and  in 
large  proportions.    Perchance  you  may  thus  enlarge  their  capacity  for 
common  sense ;  I  hope  so^  but  am  not  sure.     For  common  sense , 
is  an  abstraction,  and  individual  sense  a  real  thing  in  the  mind.     But 
we  need  not  fear  a  sound  individuality.    It  is  wanted  as  much  as 
melody  is  wanted  m  music  (pace  Wagpier),  or  as  the  proper  nature  is 
wanted  in  the  growtli  of  a  tree.     For  a  tree  rises  into  its  fonn  partly 
to  meet  the  force  of  the  wind,  and  partly  to  seek  the  light  of  the  sky ; 
yet  there  is  needed  within  it  its  own  nature^  keeping  it  in  due  shape 
according  to  its  kind.     So  each  man  muBt,  besides  all  that  outer  in- 
fluence brings  to  bear  upon  him,  carry  his  own  sense.     It  is  as  useful 
to  him  as  an  auxiliary  screw  to  an  ocean-going  ship. 

And  now  for  the  power  of  alcohol.  Alcofiol  weakens  common  $etise  in 
iU  opposition  to  individmdiitf.  That  is  its  blessing  and  its  curse.  Its 
blessing  to  the  many  it  blesses,  and  its  curse  to  the  many  it  cui-ses. 
It  may  act  on  the  liver ;  it  may  feed.  But  many  tilings  act  on  the 
liver,  and  good  food  is  not  scarce.  K,  reeognisdng  the  hopelessness  of  j 
the  sot  when  once  he  is  a  sot,  you  inquire  why  he  drank ;  it  was  not  f 
for  his  liver,  nor  for  food  ;  but  because  in  some  form  or  other,  without 
reasoning  it  out  as  I  have  reasoned  it  out,  he  has  found  the  power  of 
alcohol.    The  power  of  alcohol  in  the  world  is  due  to  the  fact  that 



it  keeps  down  the  oppreseivo  power  of  others,  and  of  tlieir  conrmoii 
sense,  over  the  individual  sense ;  and  so  makes  a  man  better  company 
to  himeelf  and  othem.  It  places  a  man's  individnally-stored  memory 
more  within  his  own  power  ;  raising  his  individuality  temporanly  but 
with  danger.  Makes  the  coward  sham  brave  ;  makes  the  dull  a  little 
Hvely,  You  will  observe  the  effect  easily  after  dinner,  when  the  wine  has 
gone  freely  round.  Individuality  is  up  ;  common  sense  down.  It  ia 
to  the  waitei^s  a  jackdaws'  parliament— all  talk,  none  care  to  hear. 
Before  dinner  he  .was  a  w^elcome  scapegoat  who  would  open  hia 
mouth  to  speak*  See  how  aptly  the  peculiar  power  of  alcohol  Lg 
recognized  in  drinking  *' toasts. '*  No  prince  eveo  would  diiuk  his 
friend*s  health  in  water.  Ite  takes  that  which  will  spin  hi**  ovm.  and 
his  friends  thauma trope  a  little  swifter,  and  keep  down  the  commou- 
sens©  influence  of  business  relations.  This  is  all  veiy  well  at  dinner; 
over  toasts,  but  is  very  much  the  opposite  of  well  when  men  in  business 
take  the  now  too  frequent  mutual  glass  of  sherry.  It  reduces  the 
perception  of  their  common-sense  relations,  and  puts  the  man  whose 
mental  balance  is  inferior  into  the  power  of  the  man  whose  balance  of 
individual  and  common  sense  is  more  stable. 

You  observ-e  the  effect  in  sickness.  In  a  fever  the  sense  of 
individual  strength  is  failing,  and  pluck  gives  way;  Muttering 
fear  becomes  horror  and  violence  ;  then  alcohol  mil  bring  back 
the  man  to  his  own  help.  You  make  him  again  come  to  himself 
and  beheve  in  himself  by  ita  aid.  The  deUrium  so  violent  was  aa 
that  of  a  shying,  timid  home.  Alcohol  gives  the  patient  courage, 
and  he  is  fearless  and  quiet  again.  In  short,  it  is  a  medicine  of 
the  mind,  mth  some  power  over  the  body.  And  those  whose 
human  life,  like  that  of  my  fish  and  whole-meal  and  water  man,  la 
stunted  and  overpowered  by  observances  imposed  from  withouit, — a. 
too  great  influence  of  the  imported  sense  of  others  upon  them, — 
a  little  alcohol  vdW  pick  up  their  spirits,  and  make  them  act  a  httlo 
more  of  their  own  sense  in  confidence  in  their  own  nature.  Gi\4ng 
even  temporarily  a  stronger  and  more  pleasant  thaumatropic  play,  it 
sets  up  in  the  memory  steps  more  numerous  and  agreeable  ;  so  that 
the  man's  mental  stores  are  more  within  his  own  reach,  and  he  passee 
the  inevitable  twenty-four  hours  more  to  his  own  just  satisfaction. 

But  as  to  those  whose  common  sense  is  small,  and  their  individual 
sense  great,  alcohol  acts  upon  them  as  a  poison  of  the  soul.  Naturally 
unchecked  by  common  sense,  the  poor  creature  enjoys  the  spin  of  his 
own  mind  until  it  is  a  passion  so  to  do.  And  alcohol  reduces  the 
uatumlly  deficient  power  of  common  sense  upon  him  ;  and  thus  as  he 
takes  it  he  becomes  more-aud-mo re  wrapt  up  in  the  pleasures  of  his 
individual  sense,  until  he  is  known  to  be  a  sot ;  and  when  the  horrible 
discovery  is  made  to  him  he  has  not  even  common  sense  enough  to 
see  that  this  result  has  put  him  down  as  an  individual  for  ever.  So- 
he  fears  common  sense ;  fears  his  own  conscience  and  the  opinions  of 



others,  tmtil  lie  regards  his  conscience,  not  as  a  guide»  but  as  a  foe 
from  whom  to  run,  just  as  rogues  see  the  policeman,  not  as  a  protector, 
but  as  a  sign  to  decamp. 

And  Morbid  Anatomy  has  lum.  His  membranes  are  thick,  and  he 
has  a  lie  at  the  bottom  of  his  eoul ;  and  the  lunatic  asylum  and  the 
coffin  are  ready  to  receive  him. 

Unfortunately  as  to  these  two  classes,  those  that  may  and  those  that 
may  not  diink  alcohol,  the  indications  are  usually  reversed  in  these 
people  from  their  own  point  of  view.  For  inevitably  the  man  who  is 
overpowered  by  his  fellow's  common  sense  will  not  have  pluck  to 
think  so.  And  the  chances  are  that  under  pressure  he  will  readily  sigu 
the  pledge.  Whilst  the  fellow  whose  individuality  has  overpowered 
his  Uttle  common  sense  will  not  be  able  to  perceive  this  fact,  and 
he  will  hold  the  pledge  in  scorn  until  he  is  a  sot.  Hence  it  is  better  for 
any  one  to  take  advice  in  time  on  the  subject  of  alcohoUc  stimulants. 
Let  him  ask  the  family  doctor,  who  has  access  to  his  friends  and 
knows  his  constitution,  and  can  learn  whether  there  are  signs  of 
inherent  weakness,  and,  if  so,  whether  it  is  weakness  of  individual  sense 
or  of  conmion  sense,  or  of  both.  The  balance  is  so  arranged  that  a 
little  alcohol,  as  Sir  James  Paget  very  ably  showed,  does  most  people 
no  harm.  Yet  the  question  is  peculiarly  a  question  for  each  person 
himself,  seeing  that  tliere  is  undoubtedly  danger  to  many,  and  equally 
undoubted  advantage  to  many  others,  in  its  use.  And  my  object  in 
this  paper  is  to  show  that  it  is  a  question  not  to  be  left  to  rudeness 
and  fanaticism,  but  one  requiring  the  largest  consideration  of  those 
highly  artificial  relations  under  which  civilization  now  places  variously- 
natured  individuals. 

Rudeness  and  fanaticism  have  failed.  Drunkenness  prevails  in 
spite  of  teetotalism,  whilst  the  pledge  inflicts  useless  self-torture.  Let 
the  legislature  be  urged  to  carry  out  its  plain  duty, — in  giv^ig  powers 
to  put  the  sot  under  control,  and  so  do  the  most  beneficial  act  to  vast 
numbers  of  suflfering  families  that  ever  was  done  by  any  legislature. 
For  the  family-destroying  sot  is  the  moat  pernicious  criminal  in  the 

Walter  Moxon. 



r  endeavouring,  with  any  hop©  of  success,  to  form  a  true  estimate 
of  the  value  of  alcoholic  beveragesi,  we  ought  to  possess  a  know- 
ledge of  their  precise  action  in  the  animal  economy,  and  to  be  able  to 
judge  correctly  of  their  effects  in  indi\iduals  according  to  the  different 



circumstances  of  life.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  howeyer,  that  physicK 
logiets  have  not  yet  discovered  the  destination  of  alcohol  after  ita 
introduction  into  the  stomach — that  is  to  eay,  what  ultimately  becomes 
of  it  in  the  system.  Although  spirit  to  the  amount  of  miUiona  of 
gallons  is  annually  consumed  in  this  countiy,  yet  after  it  has  passed 
the  human  throat,  itss  history  is  involved  in  the  utmost  obscurity.  It 
is  tnie  that  its  pernicious  eflects  are  generally  only  too  apparent  when 
imbibed  in  large  quantities ;  in  some  persons  it  may  eeem  to  be  pro- 
ductive of  fat,  whilst  in  the  larger  proportion  of  the  community  its 
dire  consequences  on  the  liver  and  other  organs  are  only  too  well 
known ;  in  some  exceptional  instances  it  appears  to  be  taken  in 
inordinate  amounts  with  perfect  irapmiity,  and  where  this  occurs,  it 
must  be  decomposed  in  the  system,  and  its  coujatituents  or  new  pro* 
ducts  eliminated,  leaving  behind  it  no  apparent  hurtful  effects.  In 
moderate  doses  it  may  either  do  harm  or  good  \  w^here  the  effect  is 
beoeficitd  it  is  supposed  to  act  either  as  food  or  as  material  in  the  pro* 
duction  of  heat. 

The  scientific  and  physiological  diBcussion  of  the  question,  as  well 
as  the  known  poisonous  effects  of  alcohol  when  taken  in  large 
quantities,  may  be  put  on  one  side  until  fresh  light  break  in  upon  us ; 
iu  the  mean  time,  medical  men  and  othera  must  be  constantly  asking 
themselves  the  question,  whether  or  not  alcoholic  drinks  are  useful 
adjuncts  to  the  ordinary  diet  t  We  aU  usually  answer  this  question  by 
the  rough-and-ready  method — the  state  of  our  feelings.  Then  arises 
another  important  query — how  far  should  our  feelings  be  our  guide  t 
Now,  if  most  persons  analyze  their  sensations  after  the  imbibition  ot 
any  alcohoUc  drink,  they  will  soon  discover  that  to  describe  the  effect 
produced  upon  them  by  it  as  stunulating  is  a  misnomer,  and  that,, 
consequently,  the  employment  of  the  expression  almost  bogs  thd- 
whole  question  as  to  its  operation  and  value ;  for  there  can  be 
but  little  doubt  that  it  is  o%vtng  to  this  misapplication  of  the  term 
stimulant  to  alcohol,  with  many  conveying  an  idea  of  strength,  that 
causes  it  to  be  so  universtilly  recommended,  and  taken  with  so  much 
satisfaction.  If  a  person  feels  low  and  a  glass  of  \^dne  produce  a 
pleasurable  effect,  it  is  easy  to  regard  it  as  a  stimulant,  and  as  ha\iog 
afforded  some  proportion  of  strength. 

Let  us  see  if  this  really  be  the  case.     The  present  is  not  a  fitting 
opportunity    to   discuss    the    exact    amount    of    stimulating    effect 
possessed  by  alcohol — that  is,  its  power  in  exciting  the  nerves  and  the 
brain  to  increased  function  and  actiWty;  it  may  therefore  suffice  to* 
declare  that  its  stimidating  effects  may  be  regarded  as  nil  compared 
with   those  which   may  bo   styled  its  sedative  or  paralyzing   ones.. 
In  a  word,  alcohol,  for  all  intents  and  purposes,  may  be  regarded  as  a . 
sedative  or  narcotic^  rather  than  a  stimidant.     And  it  is  tlds  property 
of  alcohol  which  renders  it  of  so  great  value  in  certain  temperaments,, 
and  under  many  trying  conditions  of  Ufe.     The  stimulating  effects. 



compared  with  the  sedative  are  nearly  in  the  same  proportion  as  in 
chloraform,  opium,  and  some  other  narcotics.  Alcohol  may  be  taken 
by  the  patient  at  the  recommendation  of  the  medical  man  under  the 
false  name  of  stimulant^  and  benefit  may  accnaeTrom  its  use ;  but  ita 
value  may  depend  upon  properties  of  which  the  patient  at  least  is 

.^  A  few  examples  may  suffice  to  convince  the  reader  of  the  truth  of 
this  proposition.  A  severe  attack  of  toothache  wiU  speedily  disappear 
under  the  soothing  influence  of  a  gh\ss  of  brandy  and  water,  or  rather 
whiskey  and  water,  which,  according  to  present  fashion,  has  usurped 
the  place  of  the  older  medicinal  and  respectable  spirit-  It  surely 
sounds  very  like  raiUery  to  recommend  a  sufferer,  groaning  under  the 
miseries  of  toothache,  to  take  a  stimulant  for  his  already  over-excited 
nerves.  He  requires  a  sedative,  and  he  finds  it  in  his  grog.  A  larger 
dose  of  alcohol  is  as  complete  au  anaesthetic  as  clilorofonn,  so  that  a 
drunken  man  may  have  his  teeth  knocked  out  in  a  brawl  and  be  quite 
unconscious  of  the  disaster.  If,  ihen^  alcohol  csui  reKeve  the  severe 
neuralgia  of  toothache  it  must  assiu-edly  have  a  corresponding  effect 
on  those  who  take  it  for  various  other  purposes ;  when,  therefore,  these 
persons  like  it^  and  declare  they  feel  better  for  it,  we  are  bound  to 
ask  in  what  way  do  they  feel  better.  Do  they  mean  that  all  their 
faculties  are  stimulated  to  renewed  effort  by  it,  and  therefore,  for  a 
tim%  strengthened  and  improved  f  Does  a  man  who  is  engaged  in  an 
absiniBe  problem  find  asflostance  in  its  solution  from  the  bottle  of  wina 
by  his  side  T  Do  students  who  sit  up  late  working  for  college  prizea 
find  aid  from  alcohol  I  I  have  frequently  asked  the  question,  but  have 
never  yet  found  it  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Would  a  musician  or 
singer  find  his  touch  or  voice  improved  by  the  soKjalled  stimulant? 
AjBBuredly  not.  As  an  instance  in  point  I  may  quote  the  case  of  a 
gentleman  who,  being  about  to  perform  a  solo  on  his  violin  at  a  public 
coDicert  and  feeling  nervous,  was  ad^Hsed  to  take  a  glaes  of  w^nc 
This  he  declined,  declaring  that  he  dared  not,  for  although  it  would 
give  him  coinage  to  stand  before  his  audience,  it  would  at  the  same 
time  cause  him  to  blurr  his  notes ;  while  rendeiing  him  unconscious 
of  his  degradation,  by  benumbing  his  sensibilitiea,  it  would  also  take 
the  edge  off  his  bow.  In  like  manner  I  have  h^^-ard  sportsmen  declare 
they  have  added  Uttle  to  the  weight  of  their  bags  after  being  tempted 
to  linger  long  at  luncheon  over  their  beer  or  wine  ;  and  cricketers,  also^ 
axe  often  seduced  in  the  same  way  to  lose  their  game.  It  is  a  common 
esperience  that  field  labourers  will  reap  less  corn  and  cut  less  hay  after 
their  supply  of  beer.  If  it  were  a  stimulant  they  would  be  too  readily 
pUed  with  it  by  their  masters,  Eveiy  medical  man,  too,  must  be  famiHar 
with  that  class  of  wretched  and  ever  to  be  pitied  women  who  give 
themselves  over  to  drink  until,  lost  to  all  sense  of  shame,  they  soon 
pay  the  penalty  of  their  folly  in  a  premature  death.  In  these  cases  the 
habit  has  been  formed  and  fostered  by  the  faeihty  afforded  by  alcohol 



in  gaining  some  oblivion  from  a  painful  Bensations  be  it  physical,  mental, 
or  moraL  When  all  the  world  is  dark  around,  and  the  sensibilities  are 
keen  to  WTetchednees  and  nnkindnefis,  a  Httle  alcohol  will  deaden  the 
feeliogs;  herein,  tlien,  dram-drinking  reveals  the  secret  of  ita  charm, 
Amongst  the  lower  classes,  too,  when  death  comes  amongst  them,  and 
they  are  overcome  by  sorrow,  it  ie  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  all  the 
friends  of  the  deceased  considembly  the  worse  for  diiok.  Is  their 
sorrow  so  pleasurable  to  them  that  they  fly  to  alcohol  wherewith  to 
stimulate  it;  or  must  it  not  be  evident  that  they  recognize  it  as  a 
narcotic  t  How  can  they  drown  their  troubles  in  the  bowl  if  there  be  not 
Lethe  in  it  ?  If  it  be  said  that  the  expression  hi  vino  Veritas  impUes  that 
wine  biiiigs  out  the  characteiistic  qnaHties  of  man,  I  should  assent, 
but  with  this  explanation  that  by  paralj^ing  the  controlling  power  it 
allows  Hberty  to  the  paBsions  to  have  their  full  sway.  But  surely,  so  far 
from  rendering  the  senses  more  acute,  the  benumbing  eflFecta  of  wine 
have  always  been  known,  for  doe«  not  a  very  ancient  book  declare  that 
"every  man  at  the  beginning  doth  set  forth  good  mne,  and  when  men 
have  well  drnnkj  then  that  which  is  worse  "  ? 

No  ftirther  evidence  is  required  to  remind  the  reader  of  the  trae 
properties  of  alcohol,  or  to  convince  him  that  the  appellation  which  it 
has  60  long  borne  of  stimulant  is  erroneous.  Were  however  the 
facts  not  before  ns,  we  might  be  sure  that  an  article  so  universally 
consumed  must  be  sedative  or  narcotic.  This  we  might  assume  from 
what  we  know  of  the  longings  and  wants  of  the  human  race  ;  it  would, 
in  truth,  be  a  marvellous  fact  to  find  any  people  on  the  face  of  this 
«arth  craving  after  a  stimulant.  Is  not  the  universal  refrain  of " 
humanity  one  implying  trouble,  anxiety,  and  never-ceasing  toilt  and 
is  not  its  aspiration  that  of  repose  ?  A  holiday  is  a  cessation  of  labour, 
and  the  highest  hope  of  many  is  to  reach  that  bourne  where  the 
Tvicked  cease  from  troubKngaud  the  weary  are  at  rest ;  or  even,  as  ia 
the  heaven  of  some,  to  have  existence  without  consciousness.  The 
tmiversal  cry  of  the  children  of  men  has  ever  been  that  of  the  Lotus- 

"  There  is  no  joy  but  calm." 

We  may  be  assured  that  mankind  are  ever  seeldng  after  those 
things  in  nature  which  soothe  their  aching  spirits,  and  that  they 
would  hail  the  discovery  of  such  substances  as  opium,  Indian  hemp,  or 
tobacco.  It  were  strange  indeed  if  we  found  a  people  given  over  to 
a  attmulant  or  a  drink  which  sharpened  their  senses.  It  cannot  be^ — 
alcohol  must  take  its  place  with  all  the  other  substances  which  man 
has  found  to  soothe  him. 

Although,  as  before  said,  the  utility  of  alcohol  must  be  judged  of ' 
by  the  practical  results  of  expeiience,  yet  it  is  important  to  clear  the 
ground,  as  I  have  attempted  to  do,  of  the  many  erroneous  views  which 
are  held  as  to  its  action,  for  by  these  means  we  shall  arrive  at  a  better 



i  ^decision  as  to  its  value  in  individual  cases.  Having  got  rid  of  tlio 
natioa  that  alcohol  being  a  etimulatit  increafies  function,  and  is  a 
cemedj  for  the  weak,  we  need  no  longer  attack  the  heresy  which  a 
ahort  time  ago  gained  some  hold  in  the  medical  world,  that  in  alcohol 
would  be  found  the  universal  remedy.  The  dictum  was  ishort  and 
logical.  All  pei*son8  who  are  ill  are  weak,  and  therefore  all  require 
alcohol.  Now  if  we  change  its  name  from  stimulant  to  sedative,  the 
.oonclusion  fails,  for  the  premisses  are  false.  And  by  so  doing  we  are 
by  no  means  objecting  to  the  use  of  alcohol,  but  merely  denounce  its 
employment  ou  fanciful  piinciples.  If  we  are  guided  by  experience 
in  its  use  as  medicine  or  diet,  it  little  matters  what  character  we  give 
it,  for  I  am  not  aware  that  its  effects,  either  physically,  morally,  or 
socially,  would  be  more  deleterious  if  called  a  sedative  rather  than  a 
stimulant.  We  shoiJd  however,  by  changing  the  epithet,  no  longer  be 
led  by  an  erroneous  name  to  order  a  young  school-girl  ^vine  because 
she  looked  delicate,  or  an  old  person  an  extiu  glass  because  he  was 
not  so  strong  as  in  his  prime.  This  very  loose  reasoning  and  practice 
bas  brought  much  discredit  on  an  article  so  valuable  as  T^-ine.  Weak- 
ness in  the  usual  sense  is  no  gauge  for  its  administration,  for  in  such 
a  disease  as  inflammation  of  the  lungs  it  is  often  given  with  marked 
auccess ;  and  yet  this  is  a  malady  where  there  is  a  rapid  growth  of 
-cell  elements ;  a  process  therefore  arrested  by  a  so-called  stimulant, 
assuredly  a  self-evident  contradiction. 

As  regards  the  use  of  wine  and  spirits  as  articles  of  diet,  it  were 
better  to  form  a  decision  on  no  theory  of  their  action,  and  assuredly 
not  on  their  assumed  stimulative  properties,  but  leaving  the  scientific 
question  at  present  apply  ourselves  to  the  consideration  of  facts,  ex- 
perience, and  practice.  There  are  some  persons  who  positively  declare 
they  cannot  digest  a  meal  without  wine,  %vhikt  there  are  others  in  whom 
alcohol  as  certainly  arrests  the  process  of  digestion.  Those  who  take 
a  moderate  amount  at  meals  and  other  times — ^on  whom  I  can  rely 
— add  support  to  the  view  which  I  hold  as  to  its  sedative  action. 
They  say  they  feel  the  benefit  of  a  glass  of  wine  or  a  little  spirit  at 
the  close  of  the  day,  not  to  spur  them  on,  or  to  enable  them  to  perform 
their  daily  duties  better,  for  it  would  have  no  such  effect,  but  rather 
to  quiet  and  refresh  them  when  their  business  is  over.  They  feel 
fatigued  as  the  day  wears  on,  their  brain  irritable  or  head  throbbing, 
and  a  glass  of  wine  sets  them  right ;  but  then  their  work  is  done. 

The  argimaents  which  I  have  used  to  determine  the  properties  of 
alcohol,  while  by  no  means  detracting  from  its  value,  would  yet  if  rightly 
understood^  I  feel  sure,  go  far  to  bring  about  the  reform  which  the 
country  so  much  requires.  If  alcohol  be  not  a  stimulant  and  a  direct 
giver  of  strength,  it  need  in  no  vn^e  be  taken  by  the  strong  and  healthy. 
But  at  the  present  time  there  is  a  prevailing  conviction  in  the  minds 
of  English  people  that  alcohol  in  some  form  or  other  is  a  necessity  of 
life — often  and  often  do  patients  say  to  the  doctor,  "  I  cannot  take 




beer,  nor  wine,  nor  Bpirite,  what  shall  I  do  ?  Numbers  of  pereoaB 
injure  themselves  on  principle,  and  if  they  are  weak  consider  the  three 
^iiiicles  just  mentioned  appropriate  to  the  coiTeeponding  degrees  of 
their  debility.  If  the  doctrine  that  alcoholic  drinks  were  not  a  neces- 
sity of  diet  could  be  accepted  and  strictly  acted  on^  the  remedy  for 
intemperance  is  nearly  found.  Only  let  it  be  mndei-stood  that  children 
should  be  brought  up  without  the  use  of  fermented  drinks,  and  that 
these  need  not  of  necessity  be  taken  by  adults,  but  that  their  use  and 
amount  should  be  regulated  by  circumstances,  and  the  great  curse  of  our 
country  would  be  far  on  its  course  towards  removaL  In  judging  of  the 
use  of  alcohol  by  the  community  at  large  we  must  be  guided  in  the  same 
way  as  we  are  by  other  habits  of  mankind.  We  see  persons  enjoyuig 
themselves  in  various  ways,  eating  and  drinking  all  kinds  of  food  and 
beverages,  occupying  themselves  with  amusements  of  oveiy  descrip- 
tion, and  yet  none  of  these  would  be  allowed  in  Utopia,  They  get 
through  the  world,  although  indulging  in  certain  habits,  and  declare 
themselves  well — where,  then,  is  the  appeal  against  their  procedure  %  If 
L  personally,  am  consulted  as  to  the  propriety  of  ordering  alcohol  in  any 
individual  case,  if  there  be  no  experience  to  guide  me  I  am  impelled  by 
the  principles  I  have  enunciated.  I  beheve  alcohol  soothes  a  worried 
nervous  system,  and  by  preventing  wear  and  tear  actually  supports 
the  frame,  but,  discarding  the  notion  of  its  stimulating  properties,  I 
denounce  its  use  in  dehcate  children  and  in  women  who  feel  "  low,'* 
I  also  strongly  prohibit  its  use  in  the  early  morning ;  in  fact,  those  who 
then  wish  for  it  have  already  imbibed  too  mueh»  I  always  suspect 
people  who  require  **  something  '*  about  eleven  in  the  morning. 
Indeed,  the  man  or  woman  who  has  an  acute  consciousness  of  the 
hour  of  eleven  is  a  being  both  physically  and  morally  lost. 

Samuel  Wilks. 



Bonn,  ^^ovembtr  15^  1878. 

IT  is  our  purpose  to  give  the  reader  a  view  of  ijitellertual  life  in  genera!  in 
Germany,  so  far  aa  it  affects  progresa  in  civiliaation  in  all  its  aspects.  We 
begin  to-day  with  the  delineation  of  the  factors  by  which  the  outward 
life  of  the  nation  ia  mainly  detemiiued.  But  we  do  not  at  present  use  the 
word  social  in  all  its  bearings,  reser\nng  the  consideration  of  several  of  them 
for  another  time.  In  the  present  article  we  restrict  ourselves  to  cbaracterizing 
social  life  so  far  as  it  ts  connected  with  political  life. 

There  is  no  country  of  Europe  lu  which  there  are  so  many  political  parties 

in  Crermany.      The  German   Reichstag  g^vea  the  best  idea  of   this.      It 

Dntains  no  less  than  seven   parties,   with  several    subdivisions.      But   the 

DgQ9  that  have  recently  taken  place  show  tbat  this  division  is  not  at  al!  6xed. 

,  Jannftry,  1877,  a  legislative  period  came  to  an  end;  the  Reichstag  elected 

on  loth  January,  1877,  should  have  lasted  till  lOtb  January,  1880;  it  wasths- 

solved  on  11th  June,  1878^  the  new  elections  took  place  on  30th  July,  aod 

the  Reichstag  met  for  its  first  session  on  9tb  September.      In  order  to  form  a 

^correct  judgment  on  political  and  social  conditions,  you  must  be  acquainted 

Iwith  the  constituent  elements  of  parties,  their  programmes,  their  strength, 

land  the  foundations  which  their  leading  principles  have  among  the  people 

ftiieinselves.    A  knowledge  of  the  changes  in  parties  will  contribute  essentially 

^  to  famish  a  criterion  for  forming  a  judgment. 

The  German  Reichstag  numbers,  since  1874,  when  Alsace-Lorraine  began  to 
send  representatives,  3^7  members.  Sf>eaking  generally,  there  is  one  repre- 
sentative for  every  100,000  iuliabitants.  But  as  every  separate  State  sends  at 
leant  one,  and  eight  of  the  twenty-six  States  have  not  as  many  as  100,000 
itihabitants,  a  precise  adjustment  was  not  possible,  since  the  Constitution  bore 
the  character  of  a  compromise,  and  therefore  the  size  of  the  electoral  districts 
is  very  unequaL  Subjoined  is  a  list  of  parties  and  their  compaiaiive  numbers 
at  the  elections  since  1871 ; — 


May,  187L 

Feb.,  1874. 

Mar,,  1877. 

Sept.,  187S. 

National  Liberals  • .^ 

lift      .. 

130     .. 

....    49     .. 

....  126     » 
....     85     .. 

....     99 

German  Party  of  Progress  ...     44     .. 

..*.     20 

German  Imperial  Party  .. 

38     .. 

....    81     .. 

....     38     .. 

....     56 

Liberal  Imperial  Party.. -.^ 

99      „ 



Conservative  (since  1877  Ger-|  ^^ 


40     * 

..  ♦     50 

man  Conservative)   

Central  (Ul tramontanes)  ., 

67     .* 

....     04     .. 

„..     INI     .. 

....  103 


1  *  »  «  i          1 0         tt  t 

13     ., 

....     U     .. 

....     14 

nBocial  Democrats 


9     .. 

15     .. 

....     12     .. 
....     10     .. 


Alsace  Protesting  Party  ., 

»«.•«          ^         «i 

....     U 

Alsace  Autonomists.. 

,,,,,         ^_         ,, 


....       o     .. 

....       4 

The  Ldwe  Subdivision .... 


9     .. 

l>     .. 

....       4 


1     . 

.....       1     •■ 

2     .. 

....      3 

M  2 



So  for  ail  these  parties  may  be  briefly  characterized^  their  tendencies  are  as 
follows: — The  Xatioual  Liberals  are  the  part}'  whose  aim  has  always  been  to 
unit©  Germany  under  the  lead  of  Prussia ;  to  put  an  end  to  the  dualism  which, 
before  1866,  on  account  of  the  rivalry  between  Austria  and  Prussia,  frus- 
trated CTerj'  attempt  to  give  Germany  national  and  liberal  institutions,  and  to 
let  AuxS^tria  go  her  own  wajt  as  an  ally  of  Germany.  To  the  German  **  National- 
verein/'  <if  which  Herr  von  Beimigsen  was  president,  and  is  still  the  leader, 
the  merit  chiefly  beloofis  of  having  effected  the  agreement  which  has 
taken  place.  The  National  Liberal  party  clings,  first  of  all,  to  the  German 
Empire;  its  first  p<:)htical  principle  is  to  do  its  utmost  to  make  its  external 
position  strong,  and  to  strengthen  and  develop  it  interaally  Ijy  hlmral  institu- 
tions, but  without  turning  things  upside  down,  and  having  regard  to  existing 
factors.  It  does  not  desire  to  absorb  the  separate  States,  to  restrict  their 
chartered  rights,  but  to  give  the  nation  unity  on  a  basis  of  law%bya  uniformity 
of  the  i>enal  and  civil  aides ;  next*  to  place  the  National  Government  on  an 
independent  footing,  by  the  creali(»n  of  institutions  which  are  not  dependent 
on  an  individual;  it  desires  an  Imperial  ilinistry,  to  see  the  revenues  of  the 
Empire  indefaendent  of  the  contributions  of  the  separate  States,  wdiereas, 
at  the  present  time,  one-fiflh  of  the  Imperial  expenclitnre  is  covered  by  the 
matricuiar  contributions  of  the  separate  States,  levied  m  proportion  to  their 

This  party  approves  in  all  respects  of  the  foreign  t>olicy  of  the  Government, 
but  reserves  to  itself  the  right  to  consider  its  proposals,  and  to  accept  or  reject 
them  accordingly.  From  1871  up  to  the  present  time,  the  decisions  of  tiie 
Reichstag  have  rested  with  it.  For  the  period  between  1874  and  1877  this  is 
evident ;  it  regularly  had  the  majority,  as  there  are  not  generally  more  than 
250  members  present.  In  case  of  the  presence  of  a  larger  nund>or,  it  only 
needed  the  co-operation  of  some  one  other  j>art3%  which  has  not  failed  in  ttie 
case  of  important  poUtical  questions,  as  will  afterwards  bo  show^n  in  detail. 
But  also  from  1871  to  1874,  and  from  1877  to  the  present  time,  it  has  turned  i 
the  scale^  for  no  one  of  the  other  parties  has  the  majority,  even  in  ordinary 
cases.  The  grouping  of  parties  is  such,  that  without  the  consent  of  the  National 
Liberal  party  the  Government  cannot  obtain  a  majority,  so  long  as  it  maintains 
the  political  and  ecclesiastical  standpoint  adopted  since  1 871,  and  does  not* 
adopt  any  essentially  different  standp<:nnt  on  other  important  questions,  oV 
which  more  by-aud-by.  Nut  withstanding  this  state  of  things,  which  for  the  ^ 
last  six  years  has  been  still  more  conspicuous  in  the  Pnissian  Landtag,  not  a 
single  member  of  this  party,  either  in  Prussia  or  t\\^  Empire,  has  received  a 
ministerial  portfoUo,  or  has  been  appointed  to  one  of  the  higher  in<lependenfc 
offices.  Althongh,  therefore,  not  absolutely  identical  with  the  Government, 
without  even  any  immediate  inflnence  in  it,  it  has  been  the  party,  both  in  tlie 
Empire  and  Prussiaj  on  which  the  Government,  and  especially  Prince  Bismark, ' 
had  to  rely^  and  has  relied ;  it  has  been  the  party  which  obviously  represented 
the  views  of  the  mass  of  the  educated  portion  of  the  nation.  In  the  autumn 
of  last  year,  Prince  Biauiark  conceived  a  plan  of  assuring  himself  of  its  8iip[X)rt 
as  a  Government  party,  by  conferring  ministerial  posts  on  some  of  its  members, 
and  uf  forming  it, in  connection  with  the  "Imperial  party/'  into  a  safe  majority, 
with  the  help  of  which  he  could  carry  out  his  projects  of  reorganization  of  the 
inifjerial  jurimhction,  and  reform  of  the  system  of  taxation.  The  Imperial 
Chancellor  wanted  relief  for  himself,  fnr,  according  to  the  constitution  of  the 
Empire,  he  alone  is  resix»nsible  for  the  Reichstag  to  the  Government ;  of 
course  only  morally  restx^nsible,  for  no  legal  responsibility  exists.  He  wanted 
to  have  a  general  substitute,  who  would  be  his  representative  in  his  absence, 
or  when  he  did  not  ^vish  to  act  himself;  he  desired  also  to  have  a  special 
representative  for  partjcular  branches.  In  addition  to  this,  the  intention  Avas, 
by  the  introduction  of  indirect  taxes,  to  make  the  Empire  indejx^ndeut  of  the 
contributions  of  the  separate  States,  that  the  matricuiar  conlribulions  should 
cease,  and  that  thereby  the  States  should  be  in  a  posit ii>n,  by  the  assignment 


of  some  existing  taxes  and  the  reform  of  others,  to  relieve  the  conirnunes.    It 
iuiiis[)utiible  that  the  commujies  in  maoy  districts  are  taxed  to  the  utmost 

|extt?nt  of  their  ability.    The  rule  if?,  that  the  c  >!Jimunal  taxes  are  in  proportion 
to  the  direct  State  taxe^s  ;  \mt  the  communal  contributions,  for  iastauce  in  the 

'Rhenish  provinces,  amount  in  many  places  to  3U(J  por  cent,  in  some  cases,  and 
in  WestphaUa  to  700  per  cent.  In  Prussia,  for  an  income  of  from  3,UO0  to  3,G0O 
marks,  there  is  an  income-tax  of  110  marks ;  for  ev^cry  600  marks  al*ove  this, 
up  to  6,000,  there  is  a  tax  of  18  marks;  then  in  a  higher  proportion,  after- 
wards in  lower:  for  example,  one  who  lias  jui  income  of  from  G,Oi)0  to  7,000 
markn,  pays  180;  up  to  12;(K)0,  324.  But  it  is  not  only  income  that  is  taxed — 
laud,  houses,  <&;c,,  are  taxed  alsij;  in  tlie  cuse  of  hou^s,  the  assuaiei  value  of 
[ital  is  taxed  by  the  commis.sion  appointed  fur  the  ptirpLxse.  In  the  Khine 
provinces,  wliere  livings  is  dear,  it  is  scarcely  iiossible  for  a  family  ^vith  G,000 
mai*ks,  not  belong^ing'  to  the  artisan  class,  to  live  in  a  town,  fur  it  would  often 
"tiappen  that  the  land,  liousc,  guverninent,  and  cununimal  taxes  would  amount 

\^  700  marks.     The  project  of  inform,  therefore,  i^  ttnliHtUedh/iffml^  and  is  sure 

to  ht  popular.    This  must  be  borne  in  Miud  in  order  to  miderstand  the  course  of 

^vents  since  JauuHry,  1877.     If  it  now  Lie  aske.l,  Kow  is  it  possible  that  the 

^^ational  Liberal  party  wa,s  weakeneil  hy  nearly  thirty  at  the  elections  in  Jiilyl 

fin  order  to  comprehend  it,  and  t<»  g'jtiii  an  iusig"lii  into  the  political  views  of  the 
German  nation,  we  must  jic^^uaiat  ourselves  with  the  other  parties. 

Next  to  the  National  Liberals,  the  German  Party  of  Progress  is  considered 
the  most  liberal  Altiiough  taken  altogether  it  represents  a  national  policy,  it^ 
tendency  is  to  assert  certain  principles  througli  thick  and  thin — for  example, 
abeolute  freedom  for  the  individual  in  tra«]d  and  commerce,  free-trade,  aboli- 
tion of  all  duties  ;  the  control  of  the  iacouie  and  expeoditure  of  the  year  by 
the  representatives  of  the  people,  and  therefore  an  arinnal  settlement  of  the 

^etrength  of  the  army  ;  opposition  to  indirect  taxation,  State  railways,  &c.  Jt 
the  party  which  considers  itself  to  be  in  ixjssession  of  all  p<jlitical  wisdom; 
,  cirries  its  principles  so  far  as  to  endanger  the  Government,  and  most  of  all 
rhen  they  know  that  a  measure  is  sure  to  be  carried  without  their  co-operation, 
id  even  when  it  is  very  adv"antageou=i  to  themselves,  they  say  to  tlio  head 
[>f  the  Government,  We  remain  true  to  our  f^riuciples.  This  party,  tlien,  finds 
strength  in  negation.  It  has  enjoyci  the  i>ec*iUar  privilege  of  having  hitherto, 
in  all  decisive  questions,  voted  witli  the  enemies  of  the  Empire.  Since  1875  a 
section  has  separated  from  it,  which,  under  the  lead  of  Wilhelm  jjcjwe,  well 
known  in  1848  as  the  member  and  president  of  the  Rump  Parliament  at  Stutt- 
gard,  has  taken  a  middle  course  between  the  Progress  party  and  the  National 
Lil»eials,  but  sides  chiefly  with  the  latter. 

There  arc  two  Conservative  parties.  One  of  them,  since  1874,  after  various, 
attempts  and  adopting  various  names,  calls  itself  the  Gei^nau  Imperial  paity  ; 
the  other,  since  1877,  the  German  Conservative.  The  former  comprised  at 
first  chiefly  the  members  belonging  to  the  Sile^^ian  aristocracy,  other  families 
allied  to  them,  and  a  number  of  officials.  It  is  pre-eiidnently  the  Ministerial 
party  ;  its  programme  as  a  whole  is  to  support  the  Government;  the  younger 
son  of  the  Chancellor  and  his  intimate  friends  l>elong  to  it.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  being  above  all  things  at  the  service  of  the  Government,  it  is  thoroughly 
pat  rintic,  not  illil>eral ;  most  of  it^  memL>ers  might»  provided  that  Liberalism 
enjoyed  officially  equal  S4>cial  privileges,  even  belong  to  a  Liberal  party.  A 
apedal  section  of  this  jjarty  and  the  analogous  one  in  the  Pmssian  Landtag, 
where  they  call  themselves  Free  Conservatives,  is  formed  by  those  CathoHcs 
who  adhere  moderately  to  InfftUibility  and  the  ecclesiastical  laws  of  Pmssiaj 
and  who  have  acquired  the  designation  of  State  Catholics.  This  party  cannot 
be  reproachc<l  with  laying  too  much  stress  on  Liberal  theories ;  it  is,  on  the 
contrary,  ready  to  sacrifice  whatever  the  Government  finds  necessary. 

The  German  Conservative  party  is  composed  of  very  various  elements.  It 
includes  the  adiierent^  of  the  regnlations  respecting  the  States  of  the  Euipire, 
now  finally  abolished,  who  consider  the  modern  state  of  things,  especially  liberty 


of  the  Press,  free-trade,  &c..  to  be  deeply  injiirioiis  to  society ;  the  strictly 
orthodox  Lutherans,  who  not  only  see  evil  in  civil  marriage,  but  in  all  thei 
recent  action  in  ecclesiai^tical  matters — who  regard  the  adoption  of  Presby* 
terian  and  Synodal  elements  in  the  Lutheran  Chnrch,  the  leginlation  against] 
Ultramontanism,  aa  the  causes  why  discipliue,  order,  and  relig^ion  have,  as  they 
say,  disappeared ;  and  the  people  who  are  an  embodiment  of  particularism,  who  ^ 
are  opposed  to  every  extension  of  the  rights  of  the  nation,  lest  their  own 
country  should  suffer.     Except  on  some  special  questions,  it  cannot  be  s*aid 
that  the  party  is  very  clear  as  to  its  aims.     It  sides   in  general  with  the 
Government,  as  is  to  be  expected  of  a  party  which  at  the  present  time,  among 
fift^^  members,  nurnbei's   fourteen   sujierior   oflScials,  General  von  Moltke,  ii; 
pensioned  general,  and  a  number  of  landed  proprietors,  who  are  chamberlains. 

The   name   **  Centrals "   dtsignates   the   party   which    nsed    to  call    itself  I 
the  Catholic  Section,  the  Clerical s^    and   Ultramontanes.     Its  composition  \%\ 
peculiar.     Fourteen  Bavarian,  ilfteen  Pnissian,  and  a  few  other  aristocratic 
names;  twent}^  Roman  Catholic  priests ;  sixteen  legal  officials »  one  of  whom  | 
has  a  sinecum;  live  lawyers,  a  number  of  merchants  and  tradespeople,  &c;,  of  J 
various  gratles,   form,  under   the  lead   of   the   former  Hanoverian   Minister] 
Windhorst,  a  party  who  are  opposed  to  everything  national  whicli  tends  to  ] 
advance  the  interests  of  the  nation  and  the  State,  and  side  with  everything 
which  tends  in  tlie  opposite  direction.     The  interests  of  the  Church,  with  the 
leading  personages,  is  only  a  signboard  ;  enmity  to  Prussia,  animosity  towar^la 
an  Empire  with  a  Protestant  Emperor,  are  the  actuating  motives,  and  the! 
unthinking  mass  goes  with  them.     It  is  characteristic  that  the  ten  defiant 
Hanoverian  Gnelphs,  all  Protestants,  have  joined  this  party,  that  the  Alsace 
Protesting  party  regularly  votes  with  it,  also  the  Social  Democrats,  &c. 

A  few  wonis  will  suffice   to  jiortray  the  remaining  f^arties.    The  Social] 
Democrats  are  well  kunwn  ;   so  also  are  the  Poles,  whose  sole  object  is  to  j 
protest  against  everything  Gennan,     The  fifteen  Alsatians  are  divided  into 
three  groups:   Ultramontanes ;   Protesters,  who  think  the*y  can  benefit   the| 
conntry  by  simply  protesting  against  things  which  cannot  be  altered  j  Autono- 
mists, who  submit  to  the  inevitable,  and  thereby  seek  to  obtain  as  mud^,  liberty 
far  their  cormtry  as  possible.  M|d^\ 

There  are  a  number  of  meml>ers  belonging  to  no  section  ;  bat  in  order  tliat , 
all  shades  of  opinion  may  be  represented,  some  people,  to  whom  Sonnemann, 
the  proprietor  of  the  Frankfttrter  Zeitung^  belongs,  form  a  group,  correctly 
delineated   by  Dr.   Bamberger   on  the   1  '2t\\  Of^tcber,  by  the  words  : — "  The  ^ 
special  degeneracy  of  Social  Democracy,  which  .singularly  enough  fraternities 
with  the  Bourse ;   in  the  morning  it  takes  its  lilt  at  the  breasts  of  capital, 
and  in  1  he  evening  sings  the  Mai-seillatse  with  the  working  classes;  I  mean; 
that  combination  of  |>omadeand  petroleum  wlVich  exhales  the  most  repnlsiveof  j 
all  mlotirs.*' 

For  a  more  precise  acquaintance  with  our  political  life,  it  will  be  needful  to  | 
see  how  the  memt>ers  of  the  various  j>arties  are  distributed  throughout  Ger- 
many,   This  will  be  best  aecomplishei!  liy  means  of  the  table  on  i^>ago  167,  iaj 
which  we  have  indicated  at  the  same  time  the  variations  at  the  elections  of  | 
1874,  1H77,  and  1878.     In  Prussia,  the  ditTerent  provinces  are  mdicated. 

From   this    table    it   ai^j^^ears   that    in    Prussia    the   Rhine    provinces    are 
aeven-niiiths  ;   Wcstphalian   <me-half ;    Silesian  one-third  ;    Bavarian  almost. 
seven-elevenths  Ultramontane.    (In  the  Palatinate  no  Ultramontane  has  everl 
teen   elected,   in    Uj>ix^r  Franconia   only  one  out  of   five,    in  Central   Fran- 
••fenia,  only  one  ont  of  six.)     Further,  it  is  obvions  that  the  Ultramontane  party  j 
has  reached  its  higheM  numbers — there  can  be  un  thought  of  an  increase  ;  that 
in  Baden,  where  the  Catholics  number  two -thirds  of  the  fX>pulatiou,  in  Hesse, ' 
where    they   are   nearlj^  one-third,    in    Wurtemberg,    nearly   one-third,    the 
Ultramontane  successt>s  are  n^t  in  proi>ortion  to  the  Catholic  population,  and 
that,   tl]ercf<>re,   there   is   no   cause   for   a   reasonable   f«tatesman   to   gi)   toi 
Oanossa  from   fear  of   the   Ultramontanes.      Of   the   projxirtion  of  parties 


*   :   •   :2   M   :   :   :  =   :     S  =   =   :   i  I  • 



2   ::::::   : 

CO    :^    ;    :    ;    :    :    i    :    •    :    : 


«    :*> 



?1     :P9«^Ot*^     ;^MK! 

:    :«  «  rH  ooio    ;  w    i    *.^ 

^  M  €0  9c    **-♦:::::::;    : 


:    :  BQ  HI  M  ip-i  ^    :^i-(    :^ 

i  1^  C£   ^  rH   r^ 


C:     :94&l&909O9iH     JW 

2  i 

^     ;  (>1     ^  r-(  (-* 

o    :cBt--H«efl.p^    i«o    :    ; 


aC:eoc&»HW    ;::::: 

i    s 

1^  OQ     • 

>M    :Mgoi-*e 

*o  p^    :  «  N  1^    : 

«    :    :    :    :  O  i^    :»h  ae< 

ikCt^    I    :hi    r^^    :*^*i    : 

kiS  i-i  PS  1^     :  1-1  ?1 


i>  ^  ■*    ;    : «    :  «    :  «h  t 

«^9«     I      ;^OilM     :iO«9r-l 

&]  ID  ^  iH     :  p4  M 

:  CO  ac  (T*  60  oc  »c  J>  ^ 

:  <^  *—     -,-nrH  eq 





00  i-^  f-i 

II   : 




C    iL    ^ 





fc*r-j*g   0).  P   ao  «   S 

'    •    •  ta 



ill  society,  the  figures  iy<licating  thetr  representatives  give  interesting  results* 
(See  tfible  on  page  1C8.) 

It  caw  escape  no  one  who  studies  these  fignres  attentively,  that  the  liking 
for  law^ — the  Conservative  tendency^ — has  everywhere  increased*  What  is  the 
reason  of  this  ?  The  answer  to  the  qnestion  will  afford  explanation  of  the 
jJoUtical  sentimeots  and  tendencies  of  the  German  nation.  Wq  confidently 
assert  that  there  are?i(j  .special  poUticuf  i^fasom  for  t/tt  tnawsc  of  (he  Comen'ottce 
Ttftes  ami  candidatt^^  This  is  shown,  firsts  by  the  fact  that  their  political  ainis 
are  not  difl'erent  from  t!»08e  of  the  National  Liberal  party  ;  they  have  supported 
the  Imperial  Chancellor  with  eqnal  alacrity;  the  National  Liberals  as  well  as  the 
Impenal  party  have  sided  with  the  Pni^sian  Government  against  the  refractory 
"Komish  hierarchy.  In  the  spring  of  t!iis  year  they  all  snpported  the  laws  de- 
manded by  the  Chancellor,  and  on  the  passing  of  which  he  made  his  continuance 
in  office  depend*  In  the  second  place,  the  legislation  of  which  the  Conser- 
rxatives  now  coiii plain  the  most  is  by  no  means  the  work  ttf  the  Liberals  alone; 
it  did  not  even  chieily  originate  with  thenu  but  with  the  Conservatives  them- 
?»elves.  In  the  years  from  186 7  to  1871,  the  National  Liberal  party  was  never 
the  dominant  one;  the  Liberals  altogetlier  never  had  the  majority;  and  yet  the 
trades'  ordinance,  the  law  relating  to  joint-stock  companies,  and  a  mmiber  of 
other  measures  to  which  all  tuischief  is  now  ascril>ed,  were  pass+^l  during  that 
period.  It  is  false  to  say  that  recent  legislation  is  altogether  the  work  of  the 
Libemls,  In  the  third  phiC'e,  the  Natir>rial  Liberal  party  has  ahvays,  in  unison 
with  the  Impenal  party  and  the  Conservatives,  adopted  all  the  measures  which 
''the  Govennnent  considered  of  great  importance,  and  has  always  been  opposed 
to  the  Centrals  and,  with  the  exception  of  the  Imperials  and  Conservatives,  to 
'the  Party  of  Progress,  &c.  Thus,  for  exam  pit-,  tlit^  law  ahout  the  organization 
'  of  the  army,  the  prevention  of  the  improjx»r  exeiTi«e  of  ecclesiastical  offices, 
the  law  relating  to  the  attestation  of  civil  marriage,  about  the  LandHturm,  the 
^eat  laws  rektiog  to  judicature,  the  constitution  of  courts  of  justice,  crimiiial 
cases  and  civil  cases,  the  iimo  vat  ions  in  tlie  penal  code,  the  law  about  the 
^  deputy  for  the  Im[>erial  Chancellor,  i!cQ^ 

We  cannot  be  surprised  that,  in  view  of  these  facts,  Prince  Bis  mark  shoult} 
have  conceived  the  project,  before  mentioned,  of  reinforcing  and  regenerating 
the  Prussian  Ministrj^  and  relatively  the  central  Imperial  authority,  by  the 
addition  of  some  National  LiLfcral  members.  In  the  autumn  of  1877,  Ilerr  von 
» Bennii^sen  iu*cepted  an  invitation  tci  visit  the  Chancellor,  and  the  visit  was 
r  repeated  at  Christinas.  Everybody  was  in  suspense.  Germany  entertni  on  the 
"year  1878  with  the  feeling  that  si^mething  extraordinary  was  about  to  happen  ; 
the  Conservatives  clenched  their  fists  in  readiness,  for  they  foresaw  the  advent 
of  all  sorts  of  disasters  from  Ministerial  Lit:»eralism;  the  Centrals  were  beside 
themselves,  and  even  the  Imi>erial  party  was  disconcerted.  The  new  year  came 
in,  nothing  particular  hapiieued,  the  Reichstag  was  convened  for  the  0th 
Pebruary;  instead  of  the  expected  Liberal  Minister,  the  tobacco  duty  was  pro- 
posed to  the  House.  The  opposition  when  this  wti^  found  this  out,  the  revelation 
made  hy  Prince  Bismark  that  he  ahned  at  a  tohacco  monopoly,  the  debates  in 
the  Reichstag,  the  profK;>sition  for  legislation  about  the  Chancellor  s  deputy^ 
tlie  measures  laid  before  the  Prussian  Parliament  and  the  debates  on  them — 
all  this  brought  about  a  situalioo  of  affairs  such  as  Germany  has  rarely  seen^ 
The  Prussian  Minister  of  Finance  ajid  the  Minister  of  Trade  resigned ;  after 
varioae  futile  attempts  a  new  F'inance  Minister  was  found  in  the  person  of 
Ilofrecht^  Mayor  of  Herliij,  and  May  bach,  formerly  President  of  the  Imperial" 
'  l?ailway  Board,  was  appointed  MiniMer  nf  Trade;  Count  Eulenberg,  the  Prus- 
►  sian  Minister  of  the  Interior^  who  had  had  leave  of  absence,  was  dismissed,. 
and  replaced  by  a  cousin  of  the  sarne  name ;  Count  Stolberg-WemigerodeH,  one 
of  the  richest  and  oldest  of  the  Prussian  magnates,  lately  ambassador  at 
Vienna,  was  nominated  Chancellors  Deputy  and  President  of  the  Prussian 
Ministry;  sundry  chiefs  of  Imperial  departments  were  entrusted  with  the- 
deputy  ship  for  the  Chancellor  for  their  provinces. 



A  great  deal  has  1)eeii  said  and  written  about  the  arrangemeats  and  negotia- 
tions between  Prince  Bisniark  and  FLerr  von  Bennigsen,  but  neither  of  them  i 
has  felt  any  obligation  to  report  tlieiii  to  the  public*   What  Von  Bennigseu  has  | 
told  \m  party  does  not  8nrf>a,S8  Ihtj  liiaits  of  geiioral  discussion*     So  much  19  \ 
certain,  that  Bismark  entertained  exf»ectations  as  to  the  attitude  of  the  National 
Liberal  party  which  were  not  fulfilled  ;  that  he  made  no  promises  himself;  that 
the  intention  was  to  make  Ilerr  von  Benuigsen  the  Chancellor's  deputy,  with  the  I 
ptjst  of  Prussian  Mijiister  j  and  that  Ilerr  von  Forckenbock,  who  ha.s  been  Presi- 
dent of  the  German  Pi eielis tag  since  1874  and  is  now  Mayor  of  Berlin,  and  Baron 
von  Stauffenberg,  should  come  in  as  well.    By  the  begimiing  of  May  it  seemed  as 
if  the  ill-humuur  was  appeased,  and  peace  restored*    Then  Hbdels  notorious 
attejupton  the  aged  Eniiieror  took  place;  a  few  days  afterwards  a  law  against 
Socialism  was  laid  before  the  Reichstag.     After  its  rejection,  and  with  a  few 
exceptions  by  the  National  Liberal  party,  the  second  horrible  attempt,  by 
Nobiliag,  occurred,  from  which  the  wounded  Emperor  escaped,  but  had  for  a 
time  to  leave  the  conduct  of  affairs  to  the  Crown  Prince.     By  the  order  of  the 
11th  of  June  the  Reichstag  was  dissolved,  and  the  new  elections  ordained  for 
the  30th  of  July.     Whether  tlie  Government  really  thought,  as  it  gave  out, 
that  even  after  this  second  attempt  the  National  Liberal  party  would  not  con- 
sent to  any  special  law  against  Socialism,  or  only  made  a  pretext  of  it,  caimot  j 
be  determined,  nor  is  it  to  the  pmpose.    It  is  indisputable  that  the  oiBcial  and  j 
officious  organs  all  over  the  Empire,  with  very  few  exceptions,  ga^^e  the  word  1 
of  command  not  to  elect  Liberals ;  it  was  ojienly  declared  that  the  moment  ^ 
was  come  for  forming  a  largo  and  secure  Governmeut  majority.     The  electoral  1 
contest  was  the  most  vehement  which  Germany  has  experienced ;  in  many  j 
places  the  puptilace  was  stirred  to  its  very  depths.     In  some  quarters  no  I 
means  were  spared — lies,  calumny,  personal  attacks,  &c.    And  the  strangest! 
thing  of  all  is  that  all  parties  united  against  the  National  Liberals;  the  mostl 
curious  alhances  were  seen ;  Centrals  and  Socialists  almost  universally  m  league,  j 
and  the  fact  was  sealed  by  a  formal  agreement  at  Mainz  by  the  well-known  j 
Ultramontane  ('anon  Moufang.    The  German  Conservatives  coquetted  with  the  ] 
Ultramontanes,  in  order,  when  they  obtained  a  majority,  to  sacrifice  the  Prussian 
ecclesiastical  laws,  and  everything  which  they  assume  to  be  inimical  to  religion. 
The  elections  afforded  evidence  that  the  j^>eople  were  deeply  disaffected  ;  that ' 
in  many  places  they  were  dissatisfied  with  the  conduct  of  their  representatives,  I 
and  the  tendencies  of  the  parties  to  which  they  belonged.     It  was  a  fact- 1 
which   must   ^ave   oj^ened  everybcKly\s  eyes,  that  m  Hanover  the  National  J 
Liberal  party  lost  three  seats  to  the  Guelphs  ;  that  \i\  the  provinces  of  East  audi 
West  Prussia^  which  the  Progress  party  regarded  as  their  bulwark,  they  did  not  ^ 
retain  one  of  theij-  seven  seats  ;  that  the  National  Lil>eral8  lost  six  ;  that  the  two 
Conservative  parties  gained  thirty-seven  votes,  the  two  Liberal  parties  lost 
forty»six,  and  the  Ultraniontanea,  Protesters,  Particularists,  Democrats,  and 
Socialists  retained  their  forces  undiminished. 

The  new  lieichstag  met  on  the  Dth  of  September  ;  its  first  session  closed  on 
the  U^th  of  October.     Its  sole  object  was  to  pass  the  pnyposed  law  af/ammi  ikt 
dangerous  cdiernpts  of  the  Social  Dftmoa*acy,    The  result  was  that,  on  the  li*thl 
of  October,  the  law  was  passed  by  a  majority  of  221  (including  the  National  j 
Liberals,  of  whom  only  three  were  wanting,  other  Liberals,  and  the  Conserva-  ] 
tives)  against  149  (among  these  were  all  the   Ultramontanes,  the  Progrcsa! 
party,  the  Poles,  the  Alsatians,  the  Parti cularists,  au<l  SLKjial  Democrats).     (>nl 
the  22nd  of  October  it  was  pubhshed,  and  it  has  since  been  enforced  as  widely 
as  possible.     Tins  has  made  it  clear  that  the  majority  in  the  Reichstag  has 
respect^ed  the  Conservative  tendencies  of  the  nation.     No  clear-aighted  person 
can  fail  to  aee  that  the  nation  is  satisfied  with  thin  result     Tlie  audacity  of  the 
Socialists,  their  vulgarity  and  villany,  the  tone  of  their  press,  in  which  they 
have  thrown  dirt  at  everything  which  men  hold  sacred,  the  shameless  of  their 
co[iduct  everywhere,  the  tyranny  with  whicli  they  put  down  the  opinions  of  the 
workmen  who  wt^e  opposed  to  them,  had  become  intolerable,     VV^orkmen  as 


well  as  emp^loyera  are  relieved  from  a  load  ;  every  one  felt  that  the  system  of 
"©xdtiiig  the  workiDg  classes  against  tlie  rest  of  society  must  come  to  au  end, 
I  if  the  state  of  things  was  to  be  improved. 

The  latest  session  has   iDdicated  a   second  interesting   fact,  namely,  the 
Cia/  reconciliaiwn  of  the  ChanceUor  with  the  Natianal  Liberal  parhf ;  for  in  the 
*>n  he  placed  it  on  the  same  platform  as  the  Conservatives,  recognized  its 
'idms^  and  invited  it  and  the  two  Conservative  partia^i  in  future  to  go  hand  in 
hand  and  support  the  Government,    This  time  it  actually  did  so;  all  disputed 
points  were  so  an-anged  by  means  of  compromise  with  consent  of  the  Govern- 
ment, that  the  latter  could  look  forward  to  the  acceptance  of  its  measures. 

How  was  it   possible  that  Bismark,  ignoring  the  past,  should  take  this 

€X)urse  ?     The  question  is  easily  answered     Bismsrk  is  the  most  practical  of 

politicians,     lie  saw  that  now^  as  before,  the  centre  of  gravity  lay  in  the 

'^ National  Lil»eral  party.     Without  its  co-operation  he  knew  that  he  coiilii  not 

iiMuis  the  Socialist  law;  a  second  dissoltition  of   the  Reichstag  won! rj  hardly 

l^have  resulted  in  the  election  of  one  differently  constituted,  as  all  that  was  pos- 

l^ible  bad  lieen  done  by  agitation,  fiarty  zeal,  influence,  «kc,,  on  all  side.s ;  there 

pwas  nothing  for  it  but  to  ^^ /aire  Ifonne  mine  an  luauvaL*  jeu^^*  and  to  make  {jeaCe 

.  with  the  Nati<"»nal  Liberals.     This  wits  the  more  easily  effected,  because  the 

►  men  among  them  who,  up  to  that  time,  had  been  riding  their  theoretical  hobbies 

tund  only  recognizing  practical  need.'^  when  it  happeneil  to  suit  them,  had  learnt 

frt»m  the  elections,  that  though  jx^hapa  in  a  few  districts  the  people  had  done 

despite  to  their  own  opinions,  the  nation,  as  a  whole,  had  no  notion  of  putting  up 

with  an  intolerable  state  of  things  for  the  sake  of  fine-spun  theories.    After 

Ithoee  gentlemen  who  in  May  had  declared  an  exceptional  law  to  be  impossible, 

had  considered  it  cinite  reasonable  in  October  because  the  nation  wished  for 

'  it.  Prince  Bismark  had  no  reason  whatever  for  rejecting  an  alliance  with  the 

^National  Liberals,  for  practically  he  had  gained  the  victory,  since  the  party 

'went  his  way,  and  not  he  theirs. 

But  there  was  one  method  of  getting  a  majority  without  the  Liberal  party, 
I  namely,  the  league  of  the  two  Conservative  parties  with  the  LI  tramontanes, 
r whose  anion  would  have  prminced  a  decided  majority.     It  has  occasionally 
;been  thought  of  by  the  ultra-Conservatives  ;  indeed  a  member  of  the  old  Con- 
tive  fiaity  has  spoken  in  the  Reichstag  of  a  league  between  his  party 
the  Conservative  elements  among  the  Centrals.     There  was  a  great  talk 
tiong  the  j»eople  that  Bismark  intended  to  gain  over  the  Centrals  and  thus  to 
}  able  to  dispense  with  the  Liberals ;  then,  with  the  new  majority  formed  of 
Ihe  Imperials,  the  Grerman  Conservatives,  and  Centrals  tx»  carry  all  his  measures 
^for  the  reform  of  taxation,  &c.,  but  as  an  equivalent  to  sacrifice  the  Prussian 
ecclesiastical  laws,  &c.,  and  to  pn^pose  as  great  a  i-eaction  as  possible  in  the 
f  legislation  relating  to  trade  and  commerce.     Was  there  any  foundation  for 
tthdse  re[K>rts  .'     \\"e  will  try  to  auswer  the  question,  but  in  connection  \\ith 
'another :  how  is  it  that  it  is  possible  in  Germany  to  suppose  that  the  states- 
men who  on  one  day  *)ccupy  a  certain  stamlpoint,  can  occupy  a  directly  opjjosite 
one  the  next  *     We  shall  thereby  i-ome  to  a  right  understanding  of  the  true 
causes  of  the  differences  between  the  Chancellor  and  the  Liberals,  and  l>e  able 
to  form  a  judgment  of  the  real  i>olitical  situation. 

The  chief  occasion  was  given  for  tliese  ideas  by  the  negotiations  which 

^Bismark  carried   on   with   the   Nuncio   Masella  at  Kissengen.     They   were 

shrouded  in  mystery.     How  do  mattei*s  now  stand  in  Germany,  and  ©specially 

in  Prussia,  with  whom  the  final  decision  rest«  t     The  Culturkampf^  as  it  is 

f'Called  (the  state  and  effects   of  which  we  described  in  detail  in  the  July 

number),  has  h^ai  a  tUcidtd  advantagt^  to  the   Ultmmonfnue  political  jjarty*     Its 

leaders,  esfDecially  Herr  Windhorst,  ha%'e  suoceede<i  in  persuading  the  mass  of 

Ihe  people  that  it  is  a  struggle  for  religion,  the  lil>ei'ty  of  tiie  Church,  and  the 

^Hke.     They  have  Uie  masses  so  well  in  hand  that  they  can  use  them  as  tliey 

ill  for  their  political  purposes.     If  jieaee  were  concluded  betweeu  the  Pope 

^fimd  Prussia  the  clergy  would  practically  acknowledge  and  obey  the  law  as  a 



matter  of  course.     But  this  would  depiive  the  leaders  of  a  pretext  for  sayi»g^ 
that  the  Goverumeut  must  be  ojifjosed,  becaHiSc  the  Chureli  was  oppressed,  fori 
the  stupident  of  the  working"  clasis  would  not  long  be  able  to  comprebeod 
how  the  mfaUible  Pope  and  the  Goverament  could  agree,  and  yet  that  Herr 
Windhorst  and  his  colleagues  sliould  feel  bound  to  continue  the  under 
the  pretext  of  religion.     Again,  when  the  agreement  with  liomo  is  brought 
about,  the  Poi>e  of  course,  with  or  without  the  express  request  uf  the  Govern- 
ment^ will  order  the  biBh<»ps  to  revolt,  and  the  bishops  will  give  the  same- 
orders  to  the  clergy.    Illtherto  the  ecclesiastical  aiithoritie-s  have  been  jxiwer- 
less ;  in  order  to  gain  over  the  masses,  they  had  to  let  the  chaplains  with 
their  press  do  as  they  pleased ;  complete  anarchy  had  set  in.     In  short,  if  the^ 
CidUtrkampf  ceases,  the  influence  of  the  Centrals  will  cease  with  it.    This  is  the 
reason  why  hitherto  the  Jesuits  and  the  ritramontanes  have  opposed  an  agree- 
ment.    Whether  Lc^tJ  XIII.   will   succeed  in  coming  to   terms   without   the 
Central  party,  or  eventually  against  its  will,  \\\\\  be  seen  before  long,  as  from 
the  latest  notificatiim  in  the  officious  PrifViuckd-Vovrespondeni^  directed  against 
the  Centrals,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  negotiations  are  still  gomg  ob. 
The  Ultramontane  party,  in  order  to  make  sure  of  gaioiug  the  day,  hafi  during 
the  last  few  weeks  changed  its  tactics,  and  poses  as  the  guardian  of  liberty. 
Nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than  to  see  a  party  which  sweais  by  the  Sylliibus, 
Avitich  does  not  hesitate  to  apj>eal  openly  to  tlieir  leader  as  authoritative  kii 
parliamentary  debates,  which  rejects  liberty  of  the  press,  liberty  of  conscience^  J 
and  liberty  of  public  teaching  as  heretical,  professing  to  bo  tho  guiirdian  of] 
civil  liberties.     But  the  history  of  Gerruany  since  184tS  makes  it  uiore  absurd  f 
than  ever.    T!ie  Ultramontanes  have  been  everywhere  the  most  faithful  allies  of  I 
the  reactionary  governments  when  they  were  agreed  on  ecclesiastical  matters*  I 
There  can  be  no  question  that  they  wuuM  be  prepared  for  any  reaction  if  the] 
Government  would  yield  to  their  tlernands.    They  would  soon  come  to  tenns 
with  the  Ultramontane  portion  of  the  people.     For  the  i>eople  who  could  be 
told  in  1869,  *' Infallibihty  is  impossilde,"  and  in  1870,  *'  We  have  always  had  it,** 
can  be  told  that  black  is  white  to-dsiy  ;  they  have  been  so  well  drilled  einca 
1870  that  anything  can  be  done  with  them.     But  there  is  une  difticuUy  in  the 
case,  that  the  Goveniment  cannot  ixissibly  accede  to  their  wishes.     In  order  1 
to  he  prepared  for  whatever  may  ha)>ix'n,  this  party  has  had  resolutions  sub- 
mitted to  the  people — this  has  already  l>een  done  at  meetings  of  ele^jtors  at 
Cologne  and  other  places^ — which  declare:  "^^  Even  if  the  CuUiirknmpf  is  over^. 
the  Centre  must  not  give  up  its  mission ;  it  must  still  be  the  guardian  of  civil 
liberty."     They  are   still  riding   the   same   hobby-horse,  the  attainment  of 
equality  {Par  it  at). 

The  want  of  clearness  in  this  department  is  also  one  of  the  characteristiaJ 
symptoms  in  Germany.  In  every  circle  and  everywhere  there  are  a  great 
many  |>ersons  who,  in  spite  of  all  assurances  to  the  contrarv,  are  of  opinion 
that  the  Government  is  not  quite  in  earnest  in  enforchig  the  laws  against 
Ultramontanism,  The  view  prevaUs  even  in  Government  circles;  it  is  in- 
credible,  but  yet  true^  that  a  few  months  ago  a  president  could  state  that  it 
was  not  the  intention  of  the  Goverament  to  enforce  one  of  the  regulation*  j 
made  by  itself.  The  peo|jle  do  not  know  where  they  are ;  thousands  of 
people  know  that  tho  officials  could  occ^asion  unpleasantnesses.  If  it  is  sup- 
posed that  the  wind  will  change,  they  prepare  themselves  ac<*ordingly. 

To    these   sy nqitoms   of    our   political   condition  others    may   be    added.. 
It  is  well  known  that  for  four  years  tliem  has  been  a  depre»ssion  of  trade 
which  affects  all  classes  ;  in  many  neighbourhoods  there  is  scarcely  a  person, 
who  has  any  property  at  all,  who  does  not  suffer  from  it.     It  was  lirst  felt  by 
the  larger  mannfactnrers,  this  of  course  affected  the  working  classes,  and  ia  [ 
course  of  lime  it  spread  to  the  smaller  manufacturers,  the  artisans,  farmers^] 
<fec.     There  are  as  yet  no  signs  of  improvement.     We  know  by  experiencer ' 
that  man  never  seeks  the  causes  of  evils  in  himself,  but  always  in  outward 
circumstances,     l5o  in  the  [»retent  case,  the  mijschief  must  arise  from  the  law€«. 


Some  make  the  customs  answerable  for  the  depression  of  the  iron,  coal,  and 
wofillen  trades,  &c.    The  artisans  and  tradespeople  attribute  it  to  free-trade, 
the  law  of  free  settlement,  &c    A  large  number  of  others  make  the  joint- 
stock  company  laws  answerable  for  the  swindles  of  previous  years.     It  is  not 
our  present  pitrpose  to  investigate  whether  these  opinions  are  correct  or  not, 
we  have  only  to  state  fact^  in  order  to  describe  the  prevailing  political  views. 
It  is  a  fact  that  there  is  scarcely  a  class  of  the  population,  scarcely  a  neigh- 
bonrhood  in  Germany,  which,  affected  by  the  general  distress,  is  not  in  a  state 
of  discontent.      Every  one  wishes  for  change.     This  explains  how  it  was 
possible,  at  the  last  elections  for  the  Keichstiig, — as  in  Germany  every  man  of 
twenty-five  has  a  vote, — that  such  a  change  should  come  to  pass,  except  in  the 
Ultramontane  electoral  districts,  which  act  on  the  word  of  command  from  the 
clergy,  and  wliich  were  told  point-blank  that  the  Liberals  and  the  Cidturkampf 
were  to  blame  for  everything.     If  a  candidate  was  not  very  well-known  to  the 
electors,  but  agreed  with  their  political  views,  and  declared  himself  in  favour 
of  those  modifications  of  the  law  on  which,  according  to  the  prevailing  views, 
an  improvement  in  the  state  of  things  depended,  a  new  election  seldom  took 
*  place.   The  number  of  one  hundred  and  eighteen  new  deputies  eighteen  months 
\  after  the  previous  election  affords  snfBcient  pro<:*f  of  this,     A  large  portion  of 
'the  electors  expected,  and  still  exi:>ects,  that  the  Reichstag  should  cure  every 
ill.     People  forget  that  a  political  state  of  things  like  that  existing  under  the 
German  Bundestag  from  18L>  to  18G6  cannot  come  to  an  end  without  great 
convulsions.     German   unity  since   1871,   not  only   under   the   Empire,   has 
demanded    changes    and    mea.?ures    on    many  points    deeply   affecting  the 
[inner  hfe  of  the  nation,  for  which  in   general  several  decades  are  required. 
Then  the  state  of  things  took  j>lace,  e^specially  in  the  years   1871   to  1874, 
when    the    milliards    received   from    France  produced   a   real   jmroxyam    in 
trade.     The  Government  of  the  whole  country  and  the  large  States,  espe- 
cially Prussia,  paid  back  their  State  loans  with  hot  haste,  and  compelled  the 
holders  of  State  securities,  who  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  their  money, 
to  take  shares  in  conxniercial  undertakings,  whether  soimd  or  imsound.    There 
'Was   quit«  a  rage  for  getting    rich    by  means  of    high  dividends.      An  en- 
™rely  new  system  of    coinage  and  of  weights  and  measures,  a  complete 
change  in   the    system  of  the  issue   of   bank-notes,    &c,— all    this,  things 
which  were    necea«?ary   and  excellent    in    themselves,   conspired    to   cause 
b disturbance   when   the   crisis   set   in.      Instead  of  the  previous   importunity 
Isbout  the  development  of  the  Empire,  there  was  a  kmd  call  to  desist  from 
Ifnrther  legislation,  to  stand  still,  even  to  some  extent  to  retrace  our  steps. 
iPeople  now  see  nothing  but  mistakes  every whei-e.     If,  finally,  we  look  at  tne 
I  CV/f  i/r/rant/?/ which  the  Ultramontanes  tin-n  to  account  in  stir  ring  up  the  passions 
[)f  the  people,  and  the  ferment  in  the  Protestant  Church,  also  produced  by 
|»rtificial  methods,   we  have  a  picture  of   the  present  state  of  feeling  In 
» Germany.     Combined  with  the  good  qualities  and  aims,  always  to  be  found 
among  the  German  peoi>le,  we  have  satiety,  gloom,  ill-humour,  discourage- 
rJaent,  discontent,  disappointment,   self-interest,  egotisia,    particularist    ten- 
dencies.    Hitherto,  the  objects  of  and  means  em|>loyed  in  internal  policy  and 
egislation  have  necessarily  been  destructive,  and,  so  far  as  new  measures  are 
ncemed.  of  a  liberal  tendency ;  but  now  the  tendency  of  the  malcontents  is 
onservative,  and  as  regards  the  Liberals  reactionary.      There  are  no  more 
ltd  and  cogent  reasons  for  this  change  of  tendency  than  for  the  jieculiar 
'  conformation  of  parties.     In  many  largti  circles  they  want  no  more  innovations, 
and  desire  to  see  some  of  those  introduced  ab4:)lished.    The   most  striking 
proof   of   this  state  of  feeling  is  affonled  by  the  dowTifall  of  the  Party  of 
Frogress,  whose  cry  is  for  liberty  and  free  institutions.     Although  absolute 
Tee  trade  is  their  principle,  and  this  is  a  vital  question  in  the  Baltic  provmces, 
they  have  not  retained  a  single  seat  in  East  and  West   Prussia,  and  their 
numbers  are  so  reduced  as  to  be  doubled  by  each  of  the  Conservative  parties. 
We  are  not  of  opinion  that  things  will  soon  mend.    If  this  is  not  the  case, 



neither  will  there  be  any  Improvement  nn  nne  point  from  which  onr  interna! 
calamities  have  to  snnie  extent  arisen  for  many  years  past.  We  allnde  to  the 
want  of  harmmitoiis  working  tietween  the  chief  factors  in  the  leg'islation  and 
in  the  adinini.stration,  Tacitus  says  (Gemiania,  chap,  xix.)  of  the  ancient 
Germans:  "Plasqneibi  boni  more,s  valeut  quam  alibi  bona^  leges/*  At  the 
pref^ent  time  in  many  cases,  the  good  administration  of  good  laws  is  wanting,. 
We  are  not  of  opuiion  that  in  Prussia,  and  therefore  in  the  Empire,  a  parlia- 
mentary ayst^m  of  goveniment  like  that  of  England  can  be  expected.  If  any 
one  expects  this  at  present  from  a  UohenXitllern  he  will  be  disappointed,  though 
no  one  could  possibly  adhere  more  loyally  to  the  constitution  tlian  the 
Emperor  William  has  always  done.  We  go  ftirther,  and  say  that  tlve  persoiial 
labours  of  the  Prussian  kings  are  a  benefit ;  the  well-being  of  the  country  to  a 
great  extent  depends  upon  them.  B^tit  practically  tlie  jX)sition  of  affairs  m 
peculiar.  The  Ministers  in  Prussia  are  morally  answerable  to  the  Landtag, 
and  when  the  debate  on  the  budgt^t  takes  place  every  year,  they  are  effectually 
reminded  of  it^  especially  by  the  Ul tramontanes.  The  Ministers  have  to 
carry  out  the  laws,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Crown  has  no  legal 
power  to  dispense  with  them»  unless  there  is  an  authorization  for  such  a  pro- 
ceeding in  the  law  itself.  But  the  Ministers  are  also  personally  rert]x>iisible  to 
the  king,  and  this  is  as  ilrmly  adhered  to  as  in  the  days  of  al  ►solutism  before 
1848,  As  a  result  of  this  it  may  happen  any  day  that  a  Minister  may»  at  the 
ldng*s  command,  have  to  jastify  himself  to  Iiim  for  j)ure  adininistrative 
actSi  or  at  any  rate  to  report  upon  them.  l!ut  the  way  to  Court  i.s  not  only 
not  identical  with  a  formally  legal  course,  but  often  tends  in  quite  a  different 
direction.  It  is  incredilile  what  attempts  were  made  by  representations  to  the 
king^  and  complaints  laid  before  him.  to  prevent  the  law  of  July  4,  1875, 
relating  to  the  right  of  the  Old  Catholic  commwnitie.s  to  Church  property, 
from  being  carried  into  effect.  That  s«ch  a  state  of  things  is  obstiiictive  is 
beyond  all  question.  Can  any  one  maintain  that  the  position  of  a  Minister 
would  not  be  improved  if  bo  Itelonged  to  the  dominant  political  paily  ?  A 
Minister  who  is  not  supported  by  the  majority  of  the  members,  let  him  be 
ever  so  meritorions,  is  an  upjjer  servant  of  the  Crown.  But  the  subject  has 
another  aspect,  which  was  particularly  obvious  in  the  last  elections  fur  the 
Reichstag,  and  in  nearly  all  the  recent  Hiipplementary  elections  to  tho  Prussian 
Landtag.  The  masses  look  at  what  is  for  their  o"wti  advantage,  especially 
under  the  circumstances  we  have  described.  The  National  Liberal  party,  un- 
doubtedly through  the  fault  of  the  individuals  who  were  sunimone'd,  has  lost 
much  of  its  prestige,  from  the  circumstance  that  it  did  not  obtain  any  seats 
in  the  Govenunent.  (From  this  we  may  conclude  that  thoae  i>eople  have  been 
permitted  to  have  too  much  inHnence  who  cannot  forget  the  time  of  the  Prus- 
sian conflict  before  1866,  and  who  have  not  freed  themselves  from  the  mfluence 
of  a  few  persons  who  take  it  a^  a  matter  of  course  that  they  are  to  accept 
nothing  from  others,  but  that  all  must  bow  do^vn  to  their  doctrinaire  theories 
as  the  highest  wisdom.)  Nothing  is  more  fatal  than  to  let  the  right  moment 
slip.  Everybody  who  knows  anything  of  life  must  lie  aware  that  the  party  in 
power  c^*m  influence  the  general  elections  as  well  as  the  constituents,  except  in 
the  decidedly  Ultramontane  districts.  A  fkarty  wliich  has  nothing  to  offer  will 
not  maintain  a  lasting  influence  over  the  ma-^ses.  If  we  are  to  have  a  firm^ 
sound,  and  permanent  policy  in  Germany;  the  National  liberal  party  must  re- 
organize itself ;  it  must  learn  cle^irly  to  understand  w^hat  the  fieople  want,  and 
what  will  be  for  their  advantage;  must  cease  to  attach  importance  to  mere 
catchwords;  must  l.^ear  existing  circumstances  in  mind;  must  make  common 
cause  with  those  parties  which,  taken  altogether,  have  the  same  national  ends 
in  view,  the  Conservatives  \  and  as  the  reward  for  this  they  will  render  a 
majority  for  the  Goverament  possible,  and  will  demand  and  be  permitted  to 
have  a  po%verful  representation  both  in  the  Imperial  Government  and  the 
Prussian  Ministry,  in  proportion  to  their  numbers  and  the  provinces  they 
represent,  Friedrich  von  Schlxte. 



St-  Peter sburcj,  yovember  16,  1878. 

The  Af)iiAM*iliMittcin  of  fieiier*!  NeiwntK^r, 

LET  me  first  revert  to  the  tragedy  which  gave  iis  all  socli  a  shock,  Aa 
time  goes  on,  the  hope  of  discovering  and  punishing  General  Mej^eutzefs 
murderers  grows  less  and  less.  If  the  detectives  were  Dot  clever  enough 
to  cstch  them  when  the  traces  were  fresh,  what  chance  is  there  of  overtaking 
them  now  that  they  have  had  time  to  destroy  every  proof  of  their  c*>imectioti 
with  the  crime  ?  Indeed  the  horrible  deed  was  so  well  planned  from  the  begin- 
ning that  there  never  was  much  probability  of  its  authors  being  brought  to 
light.  Society,  after  trying  to  comfort  itself  with  false  rumours  about  their 
capture,  seeks  now  to  entertain  itself  with  new  versions  about  the  real  cause 
of  the  murder.  Though  the  revolutionists  do  not  deny  having  committed  the 
deed,  but  even  boast  of  it,  calling  it  an  act  of  jtfsticf,  there  are  people  who  do 
not  believe  their  statements,  and  attribute  the  crime  to  motives  of  personal 
revenge,  arising  in  quite  another  quarter. 

To  understand  this  complication,  one  must  remember  that  the  head  of  the 
poKoe,  besides  his  officiai  business,  has  a  secret  sphere  of  activity,  not  less 
unportant  than  his  public  oije.  He  is  tlie  supreme  judge  of  delicate  and 
scandalous  family  affairs,  since  whenever  the  parties  so  involved  wish  to  have 
the  matters  decided  without  their  being  made  public,  they  go  to  him.  He  has 
the  power  of  grafting  to  the  imhappy  wife  the  passport  which  her  husband 
refuses  her,  or  of  obhging  the  husband  to  allot  ner  a  yearly  allowance,  not* 
withstanding  that  she  declines  going  back  to  him.  He  interferes  in  similar 
ways  in  other  cases.  For  instance,  he  takes  proceedings  against  young  spend- 
thrifts whose  extravagance  threatens  to  ruin  their  parents ;  or  he  represses 
tha  disagreeable  creditors  who  dare  to  trouble  the  j^eace  of  useful  statesmen, 
and  so  on.  Such  doings  as  these,  which  have  a  strong  likeness  to  the 
method  of  ruling  adopt€*d  by  Haroun  ul  Rasbid,  who  ivent  disguised  among 
his  people  to  learn  their  tme  wants,  satisfy  one  of  the  parties,  but  they  displease 
the  other.  Along  with  the  obliged  and  benefited  persons,  one  must  natm*ally 
BLXpect  discontented  ones. 

Keasoning  on  these  grounds,  it  is  said  that  one  of  the  bad  husbands 
whose  wife  obtained  Genera!  Mesentzefs  protection,  resented  such  an 
interference,  and  plotted  revenge.  The  statement  runs  that  he  !iad  contrived  a 
complete  scheme  for  making  a  fortune  by  taking  advantage  of  his  wife^s 
reluctance  to  live  ^vith  him,  a^^king  from  her  a  high  price  for  her  liberty.  This 
design  nothing  except  the  |X)wer  of  the  head  of  the  pohoe  could  have  pre- 
vented him  from  executing,  but  that  power  was  brought  into  play  agafasthim. 
May  it  not  be  possible,  it  is  aske*l,  that  such  a  man,  fnistrated  in  bis  scheme, 
resorted  to  violence  from  a  feelhig  of  revenge  ?  This  tale,  though  very 
incredible,  has  just  one  |iroof  to  support  it.  An  eye-witness  of  the  crime,  a 
gentleman  resiiling  in  the  street  where  it  took  place,  and  two  young  men,  who 
were  walking  at  that  moment  in  the  gartlen  of  the  Michael  Palace,  allege  that  the 
crimmals  had  the  appearance  of  men  l>elouging  to  the  upper  classes,  that  their 
dress,  their  air,  and  the  way  in  which  they  lounged  in  their  vehicle,  testified 
that  they  were  used  to  high  life,  and  could  not  be  humble  people  in  disguise* 



Now  the  greater  part  of  the  revolutionists  certainly  do  not  belon<^  to  elevated 
<!lrcles,  aud  it  is  difficuU  to  imagine  thut  fanatlca  capable  of  merely  politicjil  murder 
could  be  found  among  the  few  aristocratic  meud>ors  of  I  lie  community.  This 
one  circumstance  speaks  in  favour  of  those  avIio  look  for  the  foes  of  General 
Mesentzef  in  the  higher  ranks  of  society.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  mere 
impressitiri  ]>n>duced  on  the  beliolders  cannot  be  accepted  as  a  real  fact,  at 
lea'^t  not  until  it  is  further  strengthened.  The  state  of  mental  agitation  into  wliich 
people  are  thrown  by  seeing  an  act  so  dreadful  as  assassination  is  not  favounilile 
to  a  cahn  estimate  of  its  particnlarfi,  and  it  is  hardly  conceivable  that  the 
witnesses,  whose  first  ilioughts  naturally  would  be  divided  between  helping  the 
victim  and  pursuing  the  assassins,  had  the  kdsure  to  scnitinize  the  deportment 
and  manners  of  the  latter.  Besides,  an  act  of  private  revenge  would  scarcely 
have  been  so  cleverly  organized.  How  on  that  suppoaition  could  all  cabs 
in  the  neighbourhood  have  been  hired  aud  sent  far  away,  and  the  policemen  of 
the  quarter  be  in  their  turn  otherwise  employed  ?  This  could  not  be  done  by 
private  means!  So  far  then  there  is  no  ground  to  disbelieve  the  revolu- 
tionists, when  they  claim  the  shocking  act  as  their  own. 

Action  or**Tlie  Beil^,** 

Since  its  perpetration  the  party  have  refrained  from  fresh  deeds  of  Idood, 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  show  themselves  increasingly  active  in  publishing 
their  pamphlets  and  proclamations.     All  the  endeavours  made  by  our  two] 
kinds  of  i>olice — the  public  and  the  secret — to  discover  the  authors  of  these ^ 
publications,  and  especially  to  find  the  print iug-officas  of  the  party,  have  been^ 
as  yet  in  vain.    This  m3'sterious  uuderliand  press  continues  flourishing  in  spite  of  j 
laws  aud  prohibitions,  and  attempts  at  detectiom     It  makes  use  of  the  penny ' 
post,  and  propagates  its  productions  nearly  as  freely  as  are  permitted  puljli- 
cations.     Thus,  immetliritely  after  General  Meseatzefs  death,  it  issued  a  pro-  ' 
clamation  entitled  '''  Death  for  Death/'  whicli  contained  what  purporte  t  to  bo  \ 
an  explanation  and  a  justification  of  the  act.     It  was  alleged  that  public^ 
opinion  con^pletely  erred  in  looking  on  it  as  a  political  murder — in  beUevingf  \ 
tliat  General  Mesentzef  wa^s  slain  only  for  being  the  head  of  the  police.    Thai 
revolutionary  party,  it  stated,  is  uot  so  wicked  as  that.     When  it  condemned  i 
a  man  to  death,  it  was  only  for  personal  guilt,  and  it  never  acted  unjastly-'l 
General  Mesentzef  had  been  guilty  of  cniel  and  illegal  proceedings  againstJ 
political  prisoners,  and  that  was  the  cause  why  he  was  executed.     But  if  t!i©  ( 
♦secret  judges  thought  fit  tn  choose  for  that  act  the  day  succeeding  the  execu- 
tion of  Kovalsky  at  Odessa,  we  may  be  sure  it  was  certainly  done  in  order  to] 
frighten  the  Government.      However,  in  spite  of  these  representations,  the 
supposed  victim  (Kovalsky)  was  really  a  criminal  who  had  deserved  bis  fate. 

Side  by  side  with  these  ex]>lanations,  the  *' Red"  party  go  on  vociferating  J 
against  Government  and  all  organized  societ3%  vowing  to  exterminate  every' 
supporter  of  the  actual  state  of  things.    Seeing  the  impossibility  of  getting  rid 
at  ouce  of  all   their  mnnberless   foes,  they  divide   the  latter  into  several*! 
categories,  which  are  to  be  attacked  one  after  the  otlier.     Among  those  put  i 
in  the  most  dangerous  category  are  included  the  liberal  and  honest  men  who-i 
are  truly  devoted  to  the  Goverament,  and  they  are  to  be  fought  first  of  all.  , 
Dishonest  ofTieiak  or  desiM:)ts  are  not  held  to  be  nearly  so  prejudicial   to  the! 
revolutionary  ainis  :    their  acts  foster  discontent  among  the  people,  and  soT 
increase  the  number  of  the  enemies  of  the  Goveiimient.     Further,  women  are 
declared  to  l>e  the  most  useful  auxiliaries^  being  more  enthusiastic  and  more 
capable  of  complete  devotion  to  a  lofty  idea  than  men.     For  this  reason,  tlie 
members  of  the  community  are  l>ound  to  employ  all  means  to  gain  more  female* 
adherents  to  their  organization. 

These  secretly-published  writings  do  not  fail  to  exercise  a  certain  influence 
over  the  public  mind,  strengtlicned  by  the  fact  that  they  circulate  in  spite 
of  strong  prohibition.  If  the  issue  of  them  were  allowed  or  even  tolerated 
people  wtRiId  attach  much  less  importance  to  thera,  viewing  them  as  among  the  1 


oommoo  eccentricities  of  the  human  mind.     But  their  printmg  being  elevated 
to  the  rank  «»f  a  serious  crime,  liable  to  the  severest  f>enaltie«,  it  is  natural  that 
the  obstinacy  with  which  their  authors  defy  the  agents  of  power  should  seem 
to  be  a  proof  of  their  strength.    Seeing  that  the  Goveniment  is  v>owerle8S 
against  them,  utterly  failing  to  fiud  out  their  printing-office^  timorous  people  \ 
are  inclined  to  suppose  that  it  will  not  be  able  to  protect  them  against  the 
predicted  dangers,    Iq  this  way  tlie  threats  of  which  this  party  is  so  lavish  really 
frighten  a  great  noiirl:)er  of  the  readers  of  their  publications.    Ooe  may  see  this 
in  the  sort   of  rumours  that  keep  circulating  in  this  city,  though'  they  are  | 
mostly  told  as  jeft*ts.    For  instance,  one  frequently  hears  that  the  nevolutionistfi 
intend  to  blow  up  St,   Petersburg,   or  certain  p«c»rtions  of  it»  by  means   of 
dynamite,  which   pretended   chimney-sweepers   will  put  iuto  the  chiniDeys,  i 
When  such  tales   as  this  are  told  in  sotiety,  some  indeed  <»f   the  hearers  i 
profess  to  disl>eheve  and  to  laugh  at  them ;  but  others  do  not  coooeal  their  j 
ten*or,  and  confess  that  they  look  suspiciuu^ly  at  every  chimney-sweeper  who 
pisses  them  in  the  street  with  his  black  face,  seeking  to  discover  in  him  at  ] 
once  an  equally  black  design. 

Th?  Itnnt  Hir  the  .%ftfias»tiM. 

The  capture  of  the  murderers  \^■<^uld  certainly  calm  the  public  muid,  and  give 
us  more  faith  in  the  police  ;  but  it  is  very  unlikely  to  liai>i>en  now.  The  rmvard 
of  &ftj  thousand  roubles  promised  by  a  liberal  patriot  to  the  discoverer  of  the 
criminals  has  been  of  no  avail,  only  giving  rise  to  misimderstandings  and 
number  of  droll  stories.  The  desire  to  gain  so  large  a  sum,  and  at  the  samel 
time  confer  a  real  benefit  on  the  State,  is  apt  to  mislead  the  siglit  and  confuse 
the  nnderst^nding ;  and  it  is  curious  how  often — especially  at  fir^t — striking 
likenesses  in  people  to  the  unknown  criminals  were  perceived,  and  the  police- 
duly  informed  of  the  discovery.  These  affairs  generally  terminated  either  by 
a  complaint  to  the  magistrate  on  the  part  c»f  the  siipi>osed  criminal,  or  by  a 
monetary  compromise  lietween  the  parties.  In  either  case,  the  clever  detective, 
instead  of  suddenly  growing  rich  and  honoured,  as  he  expected,  had  to  pay  a 
line  to  the  injured  person.  At  one  time»  when  the  chase  was  most  ardent,  some 
courage  was  required  for  a  man  to  mix  with  the  crowd  in  public  places  if  he  had 
the  misfortune  to  resemble,  in  the  .slightest  degree,  the  descriptiun  vt  the  mur- 
derers. It  was  especially  dangeroos  to  have  a  fair  complexion  along  with  black 
moustaches,  for  these  were  the  chief  marks  of  the  false  coachman,  who  drove- 
his  accomplices  so  swiftly  away  from  pursuit.  Such  a  combination  not  being 
\*eiy*  common  here,  the  private  detectives  paid  their  exclusive  attention  to  it. 

Moscow — where  patriotism  is  {dways    in  advance  of  public  feeling  in  Hs 
cold,  cosmopolitan  rival — did  not  faO  to  display  its  zeal  in  this  ca^e,  and  the  i 
hunt  there  for  the  assassins    had   a   more  animated  character  than  in  our 
northern  capital.    We  may,  as  a  specimen,  give  here  one  of  the  episodes 
of  which  Moscow  was  the  scene. 

A  Mr.  N^ ^,  occupied  day  and  night  thinking  and  dreaming  of  achieving 

this  heniic  capture,  met  one  day  in  a  restaurant  a  young  man  mihajipily 
endowed  with  fair  hair  and  dark  moustaches.  They  quickly  liecame  ac- 
uuair.ted,  drank  together  a  bottle  of  wme,  and  came  naturally  to  talk  about  the 

St.  Petersburg  drama.     During  the  conversation,  Mr,  N Itjoked  closer  at  his 

companion,  and  the  dark  moustaches  troubled  him.     •*  ilay  it  not  be  ht  / " 

Mr.  N asked  himself.     The  talk  grew  livelier,  and  as  it  did  so  the  sus- 

i)icions  became  stronger  and  stronger.  Fresh  bottles  of  wine  were  ordereil  in 
hopes  of  eliciting  the  truth  during  tlie  talk,  but  the  stranger  drank  and  disclosed 

nothing.     This  faOure  le<l  ^Ir.  N to  give  him  ani"ther  rendezvous  for  the 

next  day.  On  that  occasion  he  asked  some  friends  to  join  them,  and  judge  in- 
dependently if  his  suspicions  were  not  well  founded*  The  company  assembletl, 
looked  narrowly  at  the  guest,  and  felt  convinced  that  he  must  be  the  coachman. 

In  order  to  make  quite  sure,  Mr.  N bad  included   in  his  invitations  a 

disguised  policeman.    **  Well,'*  he  asked  the  latter  after  dinner,  *'  what  do  you 





think?"  The  answer  was,  '*  I  tliiiik  biin  very  like  the  man/*  After  that,  the 
company  hired  a  carriage  and  went  to  take  a  drive  in  the  Park.  Here  tliey 
again  refreBhed  Ihernselves  at  a  public-houac.  Chi  their  return  to  the  restaurant 
they  threw  away  disguise,  and  said  to  their  conjiianion  pJainl^^  *'  You  are  the 
coat'hmaa ;  we  know  it t *'  Ttie  stranger,  aiiia^ed  at  such  an  accusation,  prc*k\*5ted 
that  they  were  mistaken.  But  Mr»  N kept  on  shouting,  "  To  the  police- 
station  I  to  the  station  !  "  The  stranger,  heiug  arrested  and  examined,  w^a8  found 
to  be  a  peaceful!  Bulgarian,  having  all  \\m  papers  in  order.  He  naturally  enough 
complained  of  the  wTong  that  had  been  done  him,  and  the  affair  had  to  be 
brought  before  a  judge,  where  it  ended  by  a  reconciliation  being  sumehow 
effected  between  the  parties. 

Tlie  GeiierAr»  Wiicce«*§«r. 

General  Mesentzef  having  been  murdered  in  yjerforming  his  duty,  everybody 
thought  that  it  would  not  l>e  eany  to  find  a  Huccet^stjr  to  him.  Several  candidates 
were  successively  designated  l\v  public  cjjinion,  it  being  each  time  rumoured 
that  the  proposals  had  met  with  a  refusal  It  is  hard  to  say  I)ow  far  such 
reports  were  true,  but,  a.s  the  clioice  Ihially  made  by  the  Em|x*ror  has 
gained  general  approval,  the  former  failures  are  not  to  be  regretted.  General 
fireuteln,  Tvho  now  occupies  the  ix>at  of  head  t>f  the  pohce,  is  kno\^Ti  as  a  man 
of  great  firmness  of  character,  aud  of  houesty  in  liis  opinions  lie  is  nearly 
sixty,  and  by  education  and  \^ews  belongs  to  the  old  military  schoul  of  the 
Em|)eror  Nicholas.  Obedience  to  superiors,  and  the  maintenance  of  military 
disciplioe,  are  the  first  and  the  most  inflexible  rules  of  his  conduct.  He  him- 
self never  discusses  orders,  doing  what  he  is  bidden,  and  not  even  staying  to 
reflect  upon  the  danger  he  may  pei soiially  incur  in  fulfilling  the  orrlers.  En- 
dowed with  the  valour  <.i{  a  true  soldier,  we  may  be  sure  that  he  will  no  more 
fear  the  dagger  uf  the  revolutionists  than  trend >le  at  facing  a  foe  in  ojjen 
battle.  It  is  certain  that  the  sort  of  panic  which  is  takbg  liold  of  a  jiorlioii 
of  the  official  world  will  have  no  influence  upon  his  mmd.  His  past  life  is  in 
this  respect  a  guarantee  for  the  future. 

It  may  be  in  teres  tijig  to  give  some  particulars  of  Inm.     He  took  part,  being 
then  a  captain,  in  the  Hungarian  campaign  of  18411,  and  some  years  later  com- 
manded a  brigade  in  the  Crimea,     In  1863,  he  wa^  at  the  liead  of  the  troops 
stationed  near  Viliia,  and  coiitributeil  to  the  pacification  of  Poland.     In   1872 
he  was  named  head  of  the  military  at  Kief,  and  last  year  he  was  invested  with  I 
a  command  in  our   ai'my  in  Bulgaria.     These  appointments  have  familiarized  I 
him  wHtb  all  sorts  of  danger,  hardening  his  nerves  against  fear.     He  suits  | 
perfectly  I  he  first  requirements  of  tla?  new  functi<ins  which  are  now  devolved  ua  1 
bim,  but.  it  is  not  so  certain  that  he  will  understand  as   well  some   of   the  J 
political  and  more  delicate  matters.     To  manage  in  a  satisfactory  way  thej 
family  affairs  we  fl]X)ke  of  above,  with  other  business  of  the  same  kind,  requires] 
a  diijiomatic  tact  and  shrewdness  wliich  oijen-hearted  soldiers  seldom  ix)8se8a,| 
General  Drenteln  may  consequently  find  impediments  in  his  way  r^uite  new  tol 
him,  and  more  diflicult  to  conquer  than  either  Hungarians,  Poles,  or  Turks. 

The  first  consequence  of  the  terror  with  which  this  mui-Jer  struck  the 
Govurnment  was  tlie  speedy  enacting  of  rigorous  laws,  and  the  taking  of 
extrauidinary  measures*  Public  feeling  fully  sujiported  tlie  authorities;  nearly 
all  the  organs  of  the  press  pronouncing  themsehes  in  favour  of  the  utmost 
severit y , lUid  dcmai iding  the  ()enal ty  ( »f  death  against  poli t ical criminals.  Violence 
oii  om*  side  getierally  i  alls  forth  violence  on  the  other,  while,  as  everybody 
knows,  nothing  leads  so  swiftly  t^o  cruelly  as  fear.  Each  time  supreme  power 
fails  to  breakdown  op|)usiti4»n,  its  agents  attribute  the  failure  to  weakness,  and 
declare  that  the  penalties  are  not  severe  enough.  The  fact  seems  strange  to  an 
obser\'er,  but  it  is  umleniably  trne,  that  Governments  never  imagine  the  bare 
Iiossibility  of  their  having  themselves  been  too  exacting  ;  they  never  suppose 


that  liberty  and  totecmtkxi  oould  oore  the  evUs  they  find  tbeoiseives  oonrntnu'^i 
with.  At  sioy  mte^  Russia  certainl j  shows  no  power  oi  domg^  tluft»  audi  b^Tuig 
onoe  entered  on  the  dark  path  of  rigoor.  there  is  *  *'  le  dunce  of  any 
stopping  short  ill  the  porsiiit of  it.    The  pftL>®ecution8  c>  IlatStDOW  carried 

on  so  longr.  nol  having  succeeded  in  destzoying-  the  movciai^iit«  the  Oavenuneot 
endeotly  think?  thai  it  has  not  eufficmtly  frightened  them,  and  believee  that 
their  growing  Uildness  can  only  be  checked  by  prochumiug  the  oertainty  of 
death  for  the  oSTence.  Imprisonment  and  Siberia  fail  to  inflnenoe, — what 
remains  then  but  to  try  mihtarf  eacecittions  ? 

Thus  a  new  law  has  been  lasaed^  according  to  which  all  political  Crimea 
[>nj{)anied  by  proceedinga  of  Tielence.  that  is^  attempts  to  murder  or  open 

^iifltstauce  to  authoritiea^  are  to  he  tried  before  eomt^-martial.  Smce  it«  pro* 
ckmation,  no  fieah  cases  have  arisen  to  which  it  coutd  be  applied,  and  its 
partisans  accordingly  see  in  this  circumstance  a  proof  of  its  emcaey.  They 
affirm  that  the  threat  alone  has  been  aofficient  to  preTent  new  crimes.  On  the 
contrary,  the  op|K>iients  of  violent  measures  argue  that  the  law  will  in  the  end 
have  no  effect  \rhate\^n  Acconling  to  their  view,  fanatics  who  are  ready  to 
«acntice  personal  fi^eedom  and  individual  careers  to  their  idea,  >^iU  not  shrink 
fnjm  incmring  the  risk  of  death.  We  have  just  seen  in  Germany  that  the 
capture  of  Ilt^ede^  and  the  fate  to  which  he  was  irrevocably  doomed*  did  not 
*irop  the  murderous  hand  of  Nobilin^.  The  same  perplexities  \\\\l  oa^ur  eveiy 
time  men  act  under  the  impulse  of  a  creed,  be  it  a  true  or  a  falfeie  one.  The  aim 
which  revohitiouists  and  Socialists  believe  they  have  in  view  is  the  gooil  of 
humanity,  and,  though  they  misunderstand  the  matter  completely,  using  the 
worst  means  p*issible  fun  such  an  end,  they  are  nevertheless  iK>s8eesed  of  the 
dogged  obstinacy  of  those  who  do  not  strive  exclnsivelv  for  personal  advantage. 
In  fact,  persecution  only  strengthens  their  faith,  whife  the  desiro  to  revenge 
the  suiferings  of  the  victims  among  them  embuldens  others  to  pursue  the  figlit. 
Wliat,  then,  is  to  be  done  ?  Is  the  State  to  let  its  foee  alone,  and  nllow  them 
lo  undermine  its  foundations  without  resistance?  The  Nihilists  will  accept 
BO  terms,  but  insist  on  subverting  the  whole  political  and  Si.»cial  onler  now 
4&xisting<    How  can  any  (Jovemment  be  mdiffei*cnt  to  them,  or  t^Uorale  their 

tilings  ?     These  questions  show  the  great  difficulties  of  the  case.     On  the  one 
persecution  only  fans  the  flame,  and  on  the  other  weakness  may  lend  to 

^Utter  ruin.  The  wisest  way  seems  to  be  a  middle  course  l^etween  the  two 
extremes.  A  strong  Government  ought  not  to  let  itself  be  influenced  by  fear, 
and  lose  its  presence  of  miruK  It  should  be  able  to  distinguish  between  grave 
and  venial  offences^  not  treating  both  with  equal  severity,  or  reserving  rigour  for 
the  firsts  The  imdeserveJ  importance  attached  to  every  act  classed  under  the 
rubric  of  political  crimes  is  very  far  from  serving  the  time  interests  of  the  State. 
At  first  pohtical  culprits  were  taken  before  the  ordinary  courts,  but  were 
tried  without  a  jury.  Afterwards  these  cases  were  transferred  to  special  courts 
at  the  Senate,  but  the  latter  tribunals  als*j  failed  to  satisfy  tlie  Government. 
Despite  the  high  station  of  the  judges,  they  were  unable  to  coumiand  the 
deference  of  the  accused,  and,  in  the  course  of  last  winter,  most  unpleasant 
scandals  arose  in  the  Senate.  Some  of  the  culprits  bruught  before  it  refused 
to  gu  through  the  ceremony  of  trial,  declaring  that  it  was  only  a  pretence, 
their  cnjndemnation  being  resolved  ou  beforefiand.  They  greeted  the  vouerable 
Senators  witli  the  gi^ossest  insults,  and  when  the  police  were  called  to  hurry 
them  away,  they  offered  an  open  resistance,  engaging  in  actual  fight  in  the 
hall.     The  cuurt  was  at  a  loss  how  to  get  out  of  the  dilliculty.     At  last  it  was 

.decided  that  the  rebels  should  not  he  again  placed  at  the  bar,  and  acccjrdiugly 

\  tliey  were  adjudged,  in  their  absence,  gnil ty  o i  contumacy*  Ho w e v er,  1 1  le  Se u  ato 
feJt  disgusted  with  its  task,  and  asked  to  be  delivei-ed  from  such  a  duty.  Then, 
last  spring,  it  was  thought  best  to  create  sjjecial  courts  for  the  trial  t)f  political 
offenders,  choosing  the  judges  from  among  the  officials  of  a  lower  rank  ;  but 
Iwifore  the  nominees  had  time  to  enter  upon  their  functions,  tin?  disi^rders  at 
Odessa  followed,  and  the  murder  of  Mesentzef  induced  the  Government   to 

N  2 



change  its  mind  unco  more,  and  to  decide,  fioally,  to  submit  all  such  cases  to 

At  tlie  same  time,  the  Government  published  a  torching  appeal  to  sot'iety^ 
adjuring  the  public  to  secxmd  its  endeavours  to  secure  order  aud  lej^alitj.  Thi* 
communication,  which  was  inserted  in  The  ({[fkial  Messenger^  and  was  Cfipied 
thence  into  all  the  fjupers,  chietly  dwelt  on  the  patience  and  toleration  which  tt 
was  pretended  had  been  show^n  for  so  long  a  time  toward.n  tlmse  concerned  in 
the  criminal  revolutionary  propaganda,  luiding  tliat  that  patienre  was  now 
exhausted.  The  iltity  of  the  (jovernment,  it  waid,  was  now  tu  prosecute  and 
punish  the  disturbers  of  public  tran(|uillity,  and  this  it  declare*!  it  was  resolved 
to  do  unflincliingly  This  appeal  was  specially  addressed  tu  the  young  rising 
generation.  Government  hopes  that  our  youth  will  not  hsten  anymore  to  bad 
suggestions,  and  not  give  up  a  prosperous  career  for  the  pursuit  of  wicked  and 
unattainable  aims. 

Society  responded  to  the  appeal  by  sending  a  great  number  of  addresses  to 
the  Eirperor.  They  came  from  nearly  every  provincial  town  in  Kussia,  and 
represented  every  class.  They  invariably  contained  the  warmest  protestations^ 
of  fidelity  to  the  Crown,  and  expressed  the  strongest  indignation  against  the 
tiirtturbers  of  the  public  peace.  The  protestations,  though  in  their  form  some- 
what mooutonous  and  wearying,  expressed  truly  enough  tbe  state  of  tho 
national  feeling.  The  revolutionists  fiod  but  httle  sympathy  with  the  bulk 
of  the  peo|>le,  and  the  great  majority  decidedly  prefer  the  actual  rt'ipme  of 
tjenffffrmes^  with  all  its  bad  features,  to  the  one  the  Socialists  wish  to  introduce 
in  place  of  it, 

Tli«  :VI]|Ui»tt8  And   FAmlly  U^. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  Nihilists  have  their  own  fiarticnlar  creed,  not  only 
as  bj  I  olitieal  matters,  but  also  as  to  social  and  family  life,  xlmong  other 
things,  they  reject  wholly  the  old- fash i mi ed  doctrine  of  conjugal  love  an<f 
lidelity,  declaring  that  love  is  free,  and  jealousy  a  bestial  feeling,  tmworthy  of 
inaD,  Some  3' ears  ago  this  thetny  wiis  put  in  the  foreground  of  their  propa- 
ganda, and  ihey  took  mfinite  pains  to  get  it  adopted  as  an  article  of  faith.  The 
journalists  as  well  as  the  novel-writers  of  their  school  were  continually 
expatiating  on  the  meanness  of  jealousy,  which  was  considered  by  them  as 
another  form  of  the  unworthy  love  of  property.  The  heroes  of  these  novels 
generally  renounced  their  wives  as  soon  as  the  latter  felt  inclinoil  to  give  them 
successors  in  the  marital  relation,  and  often  pushed  their  generosity  so  far  as  to 
feign  iVath  in  order  to  free  the  ladies.  In  short,  a  Nihilist  is  no  more  allowed 
to  hnjk  up"ni  his  wife  in  the  light  of  the  old  Churcli  beliefs  and  estabhshed: 
social  traditions,  than  he  is  permitted  tu  trust  in  God  and  hold  the  inmiortality 
of  the  soul.  These  two  sui>erstitions  are  deemed  destined  to  go  into  the  past 
band- n-hand,  and  neophytes  are  required  to  reject  them  both  at  once. 

Iliis  being  tlie  ideal  of  the  party^  it  is  worth  while  to  see  how"  far  practice  cor- 
responds to  principles,  and  w  hether  it  is  such  an  easy  thing  to  renounce  bestial 
feelings  in  order  to  become  "  a  man  "  in  the  sense  attached  to  the  word  by  the- 
lirogressive  party,  A  recent  trial  before  one  of  the  courts  throws  some  light 
on  this  question. 

The  tw^o  brothers  Enkouratofs^Dometi  and  Pimen — had  shown  from  their 
infancy  the  most  tender  frateraal  feeling.  The  one  eould  not  live  without  the 
other,  each  always  sharing  the  other's  joys  and  sorrows.  Belonging  by  birth  to 
the  gentry,  they  possessed,  if  not  a  large  fortune,  at  least  the  necessary  means 
of  easy  existence.  However^  %vhile  still  very  young,  they  were  taught  by  the^ 
w  ifes  of  the  revolutionary  agents  and  espoused  their  cause.  It  is  true  this  fact 
was  tnly  formally  proved  in  the  case  of  the  elder  brother,  Dometi,  but  there  i» 
little  Toubt  that  the  younger  shared  the  same  views.  Unless  it  had  been  so, 
the  great  harmony  Ijctween  them,  which  was  testified  to  by  all  the  witnessea^ 
cotild  not  have  existed.  True  to  one  part  of  their  doctrine,  Dometi  marrie<J 
a  plain  peasant  girl,  but  in  spite  of  the  other  prescriptions  he  loved  her  pas* 
eionately*    Unfortunately  the  tastes  of  the  brothers  accorded  tco  well  on  this 



point,  for  Pimeri  fell  in  love  with  bia  sister-in-law.  If  he  had  not  professed  the 
I  fchilistic  creed  he  would  most  likely  have  thought  of  going  away  from  her 
[«ight  and  crushing  hi8  guilty  love,  but  as  it  was  he  did  not  dream  of  such  a 
course.     Why  should  he  ?     On  the  contrary,  he  went  on  living  under  the  saioe 
TOof  with  his  brother's  family,  all  the  time  never  hiding  his  feelings.     He  set 
I  llimself  to  conquer  his  aister-in-Iaw's  heart,  and,  not  admitting  any  rights  on 
.  the  part  of  her  husband,  he  pleaded  his  cause  without  seniple.     Dometi,  when  he 
[  4>ecame  aware  of  this,  was  so  far  consist eut  that  he  did  not  ask  his  brother 
to  leave  their  house.     Uis  wife  remained  attached  to  him  and  did  not  like 
FfmoL     She  told  her  hatband  the  persecutions  she  had  to  endure  from 
bis   brother,    but    though   he   pitied    ber,   he   did  nothing    to   relieve    her. 
I'This  sort  of  thing   went  on  for  years.     Pimen  did  not  check   hiniself   evten 
in  his  brother's  presence,  asking  him  with  desperate  prayers  to  give  up  his 
wife.     Dometi  alwa3's  answered  that  he  would  make  the  sacrifice  if  his  wife 
,  "really  prefer re^i  Pimen,  but,  if  that  was  not  the  case,  he  could  not  compel  her 
to  make  the  change.    The  most  curious  pirt  of  the  affair  is  that,  in  spite  of 
«Q  «och  scenes,  they  went  on  living  togi^thcr,  Dometi  allowing  the  mdieard'* 
of  pretensions  of  his  brother  as  a  natural  thing.    At  last  Pimen  required  that 
[  "the  wife  should  make  no  distinction  in  favour  of  her  husband,  but  treat  them 
both  as  brothers.     The  strange  couple  consented  to  this,  in  order  to  calm 
Pfliien*8  mental  disturbance.     But  the  concession  only  irritated  him  the  more, 
«zid  led  to  the  final  catastrophe     One  night    Do'meti  was  arou<«ed  from 
bis  sleep  by  the  desperate  screams  of  his  wife;  she  came  nmning  into  his  bed- 
room crying  out  that  Pimen  meant  to  murder  him.     The  latter  followed  on 
I  ber  heels,  hniking  so  fiercely  that  Dometi,  seizing  his  revolver,  fire*1  at  iiim 
before  he  well  knew  what  he  was  about.     The  shot  proved  to  l>e  fatal.    So 
8oon  as  that  was  ascertained  the  mihappy  Dometi  hastened  to  deliver  himself 
up  into  the  hands  of  justice.     The  case  produced  a  great  sensation,  and  the 
"verdict  of  Xot  guilty  brought  in  by  the  jury  was  greeted  with  general  appro* 
"  jiu    Hut  in  spite  of  that  verdict,  looking  at  the  case  from  the  moral  point 
Tiew,  the  accused  cannot  be  let  off  so  easily,    AVhy  did  he  let  thingfs  go 
far,  and  not  take  measures  to  cure  his  broker's  madness  ?     Jlis  answer 
[would  be  to  p<>int  to  the  Nihilistic  doctrine.     Hut  it  would  be  well  for  the 
f  yotmger  members  of  this  sect  to  look  more  closely  into  this  case»  and  let  it 
■^^nable  them  to  realize  the  practical  consequences  of  their  unnatural  principles^ 
Tbe  closest  friendship  joined  to  the  firmest  convictions  as  to  the  truth  of  those 
doctrines  was  jKiwerleas  to  cure  these  two  brothers  of  jealimsy.     This  feeling, 
teputed  by  the  Nibihstsas  inhuman,  asserted  itself  with  a  strength  whicb  broke 
down  every  artificial  barrier.    May  we  not  conjecture  that  it  will  always  be  so, 
snd  that  man*s  will  is  as  powerless  in  changing  moral  laws  as  physical  ones  f 

Posit  ion  of  fl'ofiirD  !■  BnsilA* 

If  the  activity  of  the  Nihilistic  j>arty  remained  without  visible  rasult,  it 
would  of  course  lie  easy  to  look  on  it  with  indifference.  rnfortunat*-ly  it  is 
not  80  inoffensive,  but  does  a  great  deal  of  positive  evil.  It  has  unmistakably 
frightened  the  (rovemment,  luid  so  put  a  stop  to  the  liberal  reforms  which 
are  still  so  much  required.  It  also  makes  the  innocent  suffer  for  the  guilty. 
Take  as  an  example  the  question  of  the  e<iucation  and  career  of  women.  It  has 
been  mixed  up  with  Socialist  subversive  theories  till  the  majority  of  the  govern- 
ing class  do  nnt  see  any  difference  lietween  the  one  agitJition  and  the  other, 
ttid  put  them  in  the  same  boat.  Whenever  the  revolutionists  grow  more  than 
lUQaily  troublesome  one  is  sure  to  hear  of  a  new  impediment  being  put  in  the 
way  of  women  ;  while  any  concession  made  in  favour  of  the  Litter  always  coin- 
•ddea  with  more  peaceful  pohtical  periods.  It  is  easy  to  give  proofs  of  this. 
At  the  last  troubles  the  victims  were  the  female  doctors.  But  in  order  to 
understand  the  injustice  done  to  them  by  the  last  measure  affecting  their 
fights,  it  is  necessary  to  enter  into  some  particulars  with  regard  to  the  educa- 
tiofi  and  position  generally  of  women  in  Russia, 




It  is  not  generally  known  in  foreign  conntries  that  Kiissian  womeu  enjoy 
a  degree  of  civil  equfiltty  with  men,  holdmg  a  |>o.*^ition  much  superior  to 
that  of  the  sex  in  other  European  Slates*  Our  national  institutions,  it  .should 
be  rememliered,  did  not  fallow  a  course  of  gradual  developtnent,  but  |)roceeded 
by  leaps  from  one  stag'e,  and  often  from  one  t?xtreme»  to  another,  without  inter- 
mediate periods.  The  aljsohUo  po^ver  granted  to  the  monaix'h  euableil  him 
to  realize  iuimediately  the  I'efonn,'^  he  thought  ht  to  order.  Not  being  obliged 
ti>  consult  his  people's  wishes,  or  preparatively  to  influence  puldic  opinion,  he 
had  only  to  legi.'^late.  Peter  the  Great  may  l:>o  called  the  first  emancipator  of 
women.  He  set  them  free  from  the  confinement  in  which  they  had  Ixjfore 
lived,  not  being  allowed  to  see  miy  tiian  bitt  their  husbands,  tlieir  fatliers,  and 
t'rothers ;  he  also  ordered  them  to  put  on  Euro|>ean  dress,  and  ap[)6ar  in  public 
at  the  Imlls, called  a.«^ew<t/i'(\<,  which  heoiganizedat  St.  Peterst>urg  and  Sbiscow. 
This  ttkaze  causeii  much  discontent,  the  public  apijearance  of  women  being 
considered  no  less  a  sin  than  the  shaving  of  beanls  in  men*  However,  the 
Czar*s  orders  were  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  his  sul)jeets,  though  they 
gmmbled,  obeyed. 

This  first  atep  was  soon  followed  by  others.  After  the  Ozar*s  death,  a 
woinan,  Catherine  I.,  for  the  first  time  ascended  the  throne  of  liussia.  As  soon 
as  the  sceijtre  was  entrnsted  to  female  hands,  the  EmfireMses  naturally  thought 
of  l>ettering  the  condition  i>f  tlieir  sex.  Peter  the  Great's  own  daughter,  the 
Empress  Elizal>eth,  who  reigned  from  IT-tl  to  17t>l,  granted  to  them  civil 
nghts  eipiafling  those  of  men.  Since  tliat  time,  there  has  not  been  the  leaKt 
diffeixmce  made  liet\veen  the  sexes  in  relation  to  the  rights  of  property,  to 
legacies,  &c.  Girls  are  no  more  subjected  to  legal  guardianship  than  boys,  while 
hasbands  have  no  more  right  to  dispose  of  their  wives'  fortunes  tharr  the  latter 
have  to  dispose  of  their  husbands'  property,  A  woman's  possessions  are  held 
ipiite  as  independently  as  a  mans,  atid  when  she  marries  they  remain  tier  own 
as  heretofore.  For  selling  or  mortgaging,  the  husband  nnist  get  her  formal 
consent,  given  in  the  same  terms  to  him  as  to  a  total  stranger.  He  cannot 
receive  at  the  post-office  money  which  is  addressetl  to  her,  and»  indeed,  hiB 
signature  is  nowhere  accepted  in  lieu  of  hers.  In  one  word,  be  has  no  legal 
right  over  her  property,  and  she  tuay  do  with  it  whatever  she  pleases,  without 
at  all  .isking  his  consent.  After  her  death,  he  inherits  the  seventh  part  of  her 
estates,  and  the  fourth  of  liei'  pei'sonal  goods,  that  being  the  i)ro[iorlii)u  which 
falls  to  her  share  ^»f  his  property  if  she  survives  him. 

This  law  gave  rise  to  very  curious  cases  before  the  emancipation  of  the 
serfs.  As  the  nobility  had  alone  the  right  to  possess s  peiisants,  when  a  girl  of 
the  nobility  married  a  tradesman,  though  she  did  not  lose  her  privilege*  she 
could  not  transfer  it  to  her  Imsband  and  her  children.  Her  husband  was  not 
allowed  to  manage  the  property,  or  to  exercise  any  authority  over  the  serfs  ; 
they  belongtxl  specially  to  his  wife,  and  after  her  death  the  village  was  sold 
again  to  a  nobleman. 

There  occurred  another  chiss  of  instances  still  more  strange.  Some  land- 
ladies married  their  own  serfs,  without  condescending  to  set  them  free;  when 
t!iey  did  not  feel  satisfied  with  the  behaviour  of  their  husl»ands  it  was  still 
in  their  power  to  offer  them  as  military  recruits,  or  to  banish  them  to  Siliena. 
Such  occurn  aces  were  hut  exceptions,  which  did  not  represent  the  nonnal 
cotirse  of  fife,  hut  we  quote  them  in  order  to  illustrate  all  sides  of  the  quest ion> 
But  the  common  effect  of  the  independence  to  which  the  law  bad  elevated 
women  was  to  give  them  a  habit  of  reflecting  and  of  calculating,  and  generally 
to  develop  their  ability  for  laisine^s.  Being  free  to  dispose  of  their  fortune, 
they  learned  to  manage  it  without  always  relying  on  the  help  of  men, 
and  from  the  end  of  the  last  century  downwards  it  has  been  no  uncommon 
thing  to  see  great  riches  amassed  by  women,  Not  only  did  they  attend  to 
their  lands  as  well  as  control  their  serfs,  but  they  sought  often  an  additi^>nal 
branch  of  revenue  in  the  establishment  of  manufactories.  Nearly  any  one 
here  could  easily  name  several  ladies  of  his  acquaintance  who  had  in  these 



_  •'^  iMlofwMfB.  Tktj  15a  M  «|f^r<"ir 
laor  cU  iiij  I  ilffMi  of  uJlii tM«,  tat  ttej  tij  iu^  lad  ^  wxl  givM^coiK 
fHpigJy,  80  saraig'  i^rinltare  finaai  vlter  nn.  ^Wae  littdb  *"  '  * 
lo  tk»  oU  gengMiuu,  fldBnUed  dsriv  soff^don^  aigd  are  VMMe  to 
dncoaiBliooiaf  frmUUnr;  v^ldiis  tte Tonoti  wIit  tbqj csuniot obiaa  tlie 
nme  pnifits  ss  tb«ir  aio4b«rs  ud  gTaadiiiotbecs,  and  Vbj  Ibcj  find  the  vorU 
aadtj  cbang^  for  tbe  wtsme. 

It  ia  a  fact  deaerroig^  to  to  notieed,  tbat  in  the  historical  come  tt  eroata 
wcmam  m  Bnaeia  wat»  pot  in  pecagiagioti  of  dTil  n^lics  before  it  had  bain 
Ihooght  necesaarp  to  gtW  her  any  edncatioo.  In  this  vrar  it  came  to  paaa 
that  the  learnt  to  mana^  bomBS9  wilboiit  bariiig^  bad  any  school  leaaoiia, 
and  that  ma&j  of  the  renaricablj  praetical  female  manfl^r?  m  ihc>  bc^gtoitini^ 
of  our  cefitory  had  no  notion  whaterer  of  spelling  or  wrictng.  Ikit  fee  as  go 
Imtk  a  little  in  oor  retro^^ect. 

The  first  monarch  who  cared  to  farther  the  edncadoo  of  wonnai  was  Catherine 
the  Great.  She  founded  m  1764  the  s^-calkd  Convent  of  Smofai^^an  institution 
partmking  of  the  features  lioth  of  the  nnoDery  and  of  the  boardtD^-^«dKX)l.  Il 
contained  five  hundred  pcjfMb,  the  one  half  bekmra^  to  the  nobifity,  the  other 
to  the  hour^eoaie.  The  edocation  there  eJcteooSed  over  twelve  years;  the 
impils  eotexed  the  Institute  at  the  s^  of  nx  and  left  it  at  eighteen.  IHiring 
the  whole  time  they  were  entinely  -  nn  the  world,  sseeing  their  parents 

only  twice  a  week,  during  an  hour  :  r  rei^ptious,     Tho^  young  girJs 

were  specially  under  the  patronage  of  the  £iQpre$.s  and  though  in  her  treat- 
ment of  them  she  made  a  great  difference  tetween  the  two  dassen, — ^giving 
in  everything  a  mamfest  preference  to  the  nobles, — ^the  h&w^tMts  ooolii 
also  coant  on  her  protection- 
Later,  the  Empress  Marie  Theodorovna,  widow  of  Paul  1.,  devoted  her- 
self still  more  exclusively  to  the  same  object,  founding  several  other  insti- 
tutions of  this  kind  for  girts,  and  bequeathing  her  large  fortune  to  their 
support.  Those  are  the  funds  upon  which  they  chiefly  exist  up  to  the  present 
time,  their  administration  forming  the  special  Department  of  Female  Eduratitm, 
styled  the  Tenth  Section  of  the  Emperor's  Chancery. 

These  institutes  were  for  nearly  a  whole  century  the  only  schools  in  Russia 
for  girls.  maintaine<d  by  the  State.  The  parents  who  dkl  not  wish  to  part 
completely  with  their  daughters  for  many  years  (the  term  i»f  their  stay  was 
gradiially  reduced  fn:»m  twelve  years  to  nine  in  some  institutes^  and  even  lo 
six  in  some  otliers)  had  no  other  choice  open  to  them  than  to  send  them  to 
private  schools,  which  were  both  expensive  and  unsatisfactory  in  th*^  ihIhch- 
tional  results.  French,  music,  dancing,  and  department  ix*cupteil  the  fc»re- 
ground,  leaving  little  room  for  more  serious  studies,  and  fitting  the  pupils  only 
for  women  of  the  world. 

At  last,  in  the  year  18.>5,  the  Government  laid  a  fiolid  fumKlatiun  for  the 
secondary  e^iucation  of  girls  in  estAblishiug  the  prt»seiit  gyiuruisia,  1'he  initia- 
tive of  this  great  benefit  for  the  middle  classes  was  taken  by  the  present 
Empress,  who  wished  to  transfer  to  her  new  ei>nntry  the  IkTnian  (ia^^-J-chiMils^ 
which  she  had  seen  work  well  in  her  own  land  A  coniniittee  npjvointeil  tor  that 
purpose  began  by  acquainting  it.^elf  ollicially  with  those  schools  in  tioiimuiy, 
and  also  in  Switzerlund ;  and  after  making  i^evorul  iitodilirations  it  preHvnt4>d  a 
project,  which  was  sanctioned  by  the  Empress,  and  iminediatc'ly  tnirrieil  ont. 

Society  welcrimed  the  new  schools  with  great  joy  and  gratitndf.  In  the 
beginning  they  were  chiefly  usetl  by  the  middle  classes — thy  fftmili#*«  ln^long- 
ing  to  gcKxi  society  l>eing  afraid  at  fir«t  of  sending  their  daughters  mto  had 



THE  contempohary  review. 

But  gradually  such  prejudices 

got  nd  of,  and  with  every  year 


the  gymnasia  coiujt  a  greater  Dmnber  of  ptipils  received  from  the  aristocracy. 
The  scbool'feea  being*  %^ery  small  (in  the  l>eg;inning  they  amounted  to  only 
forty  roubles  per  annum,  thon^^h  aince  Increased  to  sixty),  the  schools  are 
open  to  people  with  very  moderate  means,  and  there  \n  undoubte<lly  a  mixed 
class  sitting  on  the  benches.  But  as  the  conrse  of  studies  is  higher  and  more 
serious  tlian  in  other  establishments,  and  the  masters  tlie  best  to  be  had, 
parents  overlook  these  social  inconveniences.  Besides,  as  the  gynioa-sium  is 
only  a  day-Fchool,  with  vcr}'  little  time  given  for  recreation,  the  company  of 
fellow-pupils  cannot  exercis(f  a  moral  iufiuence  like  that  arising  in  boarding- 
srbools,  where  the  scholars  spend  togetlier  months  and  years.  It  may  be  as  well 
to  go  into  a  little  more  detail  on  this  subject,  as  nothing  is  known  of  it  in  England. 

The  gynmasiii  are  divided  into  seven  classes,  besides  a  preparati^ry  grade. 
To  be  admitted  into  the  seventh  the  pupil  must  be  able  to  read  and  \^Tite  not 
only  in  Russian,  but  also  in  French  and  German.  English  is  not  obligatory, 
but  optional.  Then  come  history,  geography,  arithmetic,  geometry,  and 
equations  of  the  first  degree ;  physics  and  natural  history,  and  the  arts  of 
dancing  and  drawing.  The  programme  of  the  higher  classes  includes  religion, 
which  an  orthodox  priest  teadies  to  his  fluck,  white  Catholic  and  Protestant 
clergymen  are  charged  with  the  same  offic^e  for  pnpils  belonging  to  their  con- 
fessions. An  examination  precedes  the  passage  from  each  class  to  the  next 
above  it,  and  the  pnpils  who  do  not  give  satisfactory  answers  go  back  for 
another  3^ear.  If  they  fail  tlie  second  time,  they  have  to  leave  the  gymnasiH. 
Those  wlio  finish  the  whole  range  of  stn<hes  receive  a  diploma,  wliieh  confers 
the  right  of  teaching  and  of  occupying  places  as  governesses,  that  is,  of  Ijeing 
damen  de  dasm  m  public  and  private  schools.  These  places,  though  poorly 
remunerated — the  salary  of  a  dame  (k  class f;  is  350  roubles  a  year^ — are  very 
nmch  songht  after.  It  is  considered  more  respectable  to  serve  the  State 
than  private  families,  and,  further,  the  diplomas  give  a  rigfit  to  a  pension  after 
twenty-five  years*  service.  Girls  educated  either  at  home  or  in  private  schools, 
who  wish  to  possess  the  same  rights  as  the  pujiilsof  the  gynniasia  and  the  insti- 
tutes, luust  submit  to  an  examination  established  by  the  State  for  the  purpose. 

The  diplomas,  liesides  opening  a  way  to  the  pehigogical  career,  are  also 
required  for  admittance  to  the  higher  schools,  which  take  the  place  so  far  of  the 
nniversity  studies  which  llnssian  women  are  so  ardently  striving  after  nowadays ; 
for  no  stwjTjer  was  their  8e< 'ond a ry  education  ]>ut  on  a  solid  foundation,  than  they 
began  claiming  the  benefit  of  a  supenor  cdunition.  At  first*  the  (hjvernment 
opened  to  tliem  the  doors  of  the  universities,  but  as  there  broke  t>ut  dis- 
liirbances  ammigst  the  stu<lents,  in  which  the  female  pupiln,  strange  to  say, 
played  a  jirominent  part,  this  favour  was  soon  withdrawn.  The  attempt  has 
never  si  nee  been  renewed.  Tlien  arose  the  question  of  founding  special  insti- 
tutions iij  their  behalf,  but  the  university,  which  is  their  ideni,  remains  still 
a  desideratum.  In  its  stead  there  exist  the  Pedfsgmjk  ch.^^f.\  forming  the 
complement  of  the  gj-nmasia  and  governed  by  the  same  administration.  The 
studies  there  last  two  years,  the  first  twelvemonth  being  devoted  to  theory 
and  the  second  chiefly  to  practice.  .Since  last  winter,  a  third  year  has  been 
added  to  the  programme,  and  the  studies  have  grown  more  severe,  A  pro- 
gy^mnasium  furnishes  the  pupils,  whom  the  future  governesses  teach  for  practice 
under  the  guidance  of  socially  appointed  prrjfessors.  They  are  obligt^d  to 
explain  and  defend  their  methiwls  in  a  conference  composed  of  the  ni asters  and 
tbe  direet orate  of  the  e^tablislnnent.  After  tenidnating  their  studies,  they  are 
generally  apjiointed  as  professors  in  the  ca]>ital  or  the  chief  towns  of  the 

However,  OS  all  these  schools  prepared  only  for  the  career  of  t each hig,  there 
remained!  still  a  great  number  of  girls  who,  feeling  no  incliiiati^m  drawing  them 
that  way,  wished  to  gain  their  breiwl  in  ot her  direettons.  Medicine  snou  became 
the  favourite  study  of  man}-,  and  ZtiHeh  was  the  promised  land  for  which  the 
neophytes  hanged.    Hie  great  success  obtained  by  our  first  female  doctor,  a 




lady  named  Souslof,  who  lirilliantly  finished  her  studies  at  Zurich  and  forrod 
the  Russian  faculty  ti»  confer  u]>on  her  tlie  diploma  of  a  physician,  encouraged 
other  girls  to  follow  in  her  steps.  Unhappily,  revoliitiouary  emissaries  e.^^ta- 
blished  themselves  hi  Switzerland,  thinking  this  a  good  occasion  for  increasing 
the  numlier  of  their  adherents.  They  made  Zurich  a  centre  of  their  most  active 
propaganda.  Many  uf  the  ^irls  who  went  there  for  the  purpwse  of  study ing 
lad  not  mental  strengt!i  sufficient  to  keep  them  from  leaving  the  straight  path, 
and  were  caught  in  the  nets  of  the  jHilitical  agitators.  Instead  of  learning 
ecience  they  devoted  themselves  to  the  cause  of  revolution,  and  many  led  a 
very  immoral  hfe.  At  last,  the  Government  grew  so  indignant  at  seeing  such 
a  great  numt»er  of  revolutionists  coming  from  Zurich^  that  it  prohibited  female 
students  from  going  tliere  any  more, — that  is,  it  declared  that  the  Zurich 
diplomas  wonld  not  any  longer  give  the  right  to  pass  the  complementary 
examinatiftn  in  Russia. 

Meanwhile,  a  new  institution,  supported  by  private  gifts,  had  Wen  founded 
at  St,  Petersburg.  A  section  for  m'omen  was  annexed  to  the  Medico -Chi  rurgical 
Academy,  the  Government  after  much  heaitatioQ  giving  its  sanction.  The 
course  of  studies  lasts  tive  years.  Before  the  first  set  of  scholars  had  Ontshed 
their  education,  the  war  declared  against  Turkey  demanded  extra  medical  ser- 
vice and  the  pupils  of  the  Aca'iemy  offered  themselves.  They  were  accepted 
find  ranked  und^T  the  !M  Cros-i^  and  according  to  the  testimony  of  numerous 
vrounded  officers  and  Si-ldiers,  these  female  doctors  proved  very  useful.  Last 
spring  the  upper  class  finally  [jassed  their  examinationfl,  but  the  diplomas  con- 
ferred on  them  did  not  fjnite  answer  their  expectations.  At  the  foundation  of 
the  institution,  the  Gnvemraent  did  not  state  precisely  the  rights  its  degree  was 
to  give,  promising  to  Avork  out  the  question  later.  Five  years  had  elapsed  with- 
out making  the  point  clear.  Were  the  students  to  be  placed  on  equal  terms 
T«Tth  men  havmg  finished  their  medical  studies,  or  would  they  have  only  the 
rank  of  qualifieti  accoucheurs  with  the  privilege  of  treating  clitldrcn  f  All  this 
was  left  undecided. 

While  the  question  remained  in  that  state,  provincial  assemblies  or  zeimtvoa 
fastened  to  engage  women  as  rural  doi^tors,  and  to  entrust  to  them  the  care 
of  ho-^pitttls.  Medical  assistance  had  always  been  scarce  in  tlie  provinces, 
esj>ecially  in  the  ^nllages,  but  after  the  nee'  !a  of  the  war  so  greatly  increased 
the  demand,  the  want  wm  felt  with  still  more  intensity.  The  h)cal  administra- 
lions  gladly  seized  the  opportunity.  The  new  physicians  seemed  to  acquit 
themselves  satisfactorily,  and  were  nctivcly  at  work  for  nearly  lialf  a  year, 
when  the  follies  and  the  crimes  of  fhe  revolntionists  occurred  unexpectedly 
Mid  threw  a  sliadow  on  them,  Stxin  after  the  murder  of  Mesentzef  there  was 
isaned  a  prohibition  forbidding  women  being  api>ointed  as  doctors,  and  ordering 
the  zenutvm  to  replace  them  by  men.  It  was  alleged  that  the  pupils  of  the 
Academy  of  Medicine  were  not  yet  in  possession  of  full  doctor-diplomas,  and 
that  this  question  must  be  solved  before  tliey  could  be  placed  on  an  equal  footing 
with  their  male  competitors. 

The  provincial  administrations,  among  which  that  of  Novgorod  played  the 
foremost  part,  received  the  announcement  with  astonishment,  and  show^ed  great 
displeasure-  They  were  satisfied  with  their  female  doctors,  and  did  not  know 
wdiere  to  find  substitutes  for  them.  They  energetically  protested  against  such 
an  onier.  liesieging  the  Gtjvernorof  Novgorod  as  well  as  other  ofiicials  with  their 
petitions.  The  Governor  refused  to  inteiiere.  Then  the  ztnistvos  recurred  to 
the  press,  and  poured  out  tlicir  claims  and  complaints  through  the  daily  pajiers. 

The  agitation  has  not  been  without  fruit.  A  committee  was  named  to 
coasider  the  matter.  After  a  long  debate,  it  decided  unanimously  as  follow^s  : — 
^* Though  the  right  of  women  to  practise  medicine  1ms  not  yet  been  recog- 
nized by  the  legislative  power,  the  committee,  acting  on  the  assurance  of  pro- 
fessors that  the  pupils  of  the  Academy  possess  all  the  knowledge  required  for 
the  me<hcal  profession,  will  entreat  the  Government  to  confer  on  them  those 


So  far  well,  but,  iin fortunately^  tbe  ultimate  decision  depends  on  the  doings 
of  the  revolutionary  party,  and  some  fresh  misdemeanour  on  their  part  may 
again  alter  matters.  Such  a  Ktate  of  things  ought  to  teach  prudence.  To 
obtain  peace,  concessions  nnist  l>e  made  on  both  sides,  and  the  young-  genera- 
tion ought  to  make  its  choice.  If  women  want  to  gain  new  rights,  to  study 
and  work  in  the  branches  hitherto  allotted  to  men  alone,  they  must  not  harass 
and  anger  the  Goverament  by  joiidng  its  foes.  If  they  prefer  revolutionary 
propagamla  and  secret  organizations,  it  is  quite  useless  to  ask  for  universities 
and  my  forth.     Running  after  two  liares  is  the  l*est  way  of  catching  none. 

The  Liberal^  aimI  the  liioveriitriifnt. 

Generally  speaking,  the  Liberals  are  placed  now  in  a  ven^  difficult  position 
in  Kussia.  As  spectators  of  the  dcspenite  battle  fought  !>y  the  Government 
against  the  revolutionists,  they  are  obliged  to  confess  that  neither  of  the  com* 
balants  is  in  the  right.  Both  sides  have  recourse  to  weapons  which  must  l>e 
deprecatc*d»  and  the  more  one  has  at  lieart  the  c^iuse  of  order  and  legality 
tbe  more  the  errors  committed  havo  to  be  deploi'ed.  Exasperated  by  the 
audacit}*  of  its  foes,  the  Goverament  admits  aot  the  slightest  difference  :  the 
least  attempt  at  criticism,  thotigh  made  in  a  friendly  spirit,  is  considered  a 
serious  offence,  and  speedily  punished. 

As  a  sj^ecimen  of  this  recrudescence  of  slernoess  we  may  quote  the 
interdiction  of  sale  to  which  The  Golos^  our  leading  daily  newspaper,  has 
again  hail  to  submit.  This  punishment  has  become  a  favourite  one  with  our 
oensrjrship,  and  is  readily  applied  on  eycry  occasion.  It  has  two  advantages  : 
first,  it  tells  directly  on  the  pe<:uniary  interests  of  the  editors,  which  is  the 
best  bridle  for  keeping  them  quiet ;  and  secondly^  the  reasons  for  it  do  not 
require  tolw^  publicly  explained,  which  is  %-ery  convenient  for  the  administration. 
Oflicial  warnings  and  the  suppression  of  newspaperg  must  be  accompanied 
by  a  statement  oF  gromids,  and  the  articles  which  have  callefl  forth  such 
measures  must  be  specified.  The  interdiction  of  the  sale  of  single  copies  is  not 
subject  to  these  formalities.  The  central  censorship  has  the  right  to  apply  it 
whenever  it  thinks  fit,  leaving  people  to  wunder  at  the  cause,  and  to  try  and 
guess  which  of  the  articles  lately  inserted  !ias  provoketl  the  anger  of  the 
Government.  In  most  cases  the  readers  are  quite  at  a  loss,  and  often  contra- 
dictory rumours  are  spread  concerning  the  cause.  Personal  aggrievance  is  the 
first  motive  every  one  thinks  of,  Wlieu  the  penalty  was  infiicted  on  The  G0I03 
last  August,  no  one  knew  the  reason  of  it,  and  the  mystery  has  never  been 
cleared  up.  But  on  this  last  occasion  the  censorslu'p  deviated  from  its  ordinary 
course,  being  at  pains  to  explain  its  anger  and  to  mark  out  the  guilty  article. 
This  gives  us  the  means  of  judging  what  is  forbidden  in  its  eyes. 

The  article  is  one  which  treated  of  the  law  against  Sizfcialists  adopted  by  the 
Parliament  in  Germany,  and  puts  forwanl  some  general  views  which  would  be 
called  truisms  iu  other  countries.  It  expresses  itself  unfavourably  upon  the 
persecution  of  ideas,  saying  that  violence  never  can  conquer  them,  and  tliat  the 
police  ought  to  content  itself  with  repressing  acts,  leaving  thoughts  alone. 
It  adds  that  intolerance  of  ideas  is  very  prejudicial  to  the  welfare  uf  Sta-tes, 
quoting  as  an  instance  the  full  of  Napoletju  lll.s  Empire,  which  it  says 
was  as  much  the  result  of  the  revolutionary  elements  as  of  the  prowess 
of  the  German  armies. 

If  the  Government  forbids  remarks  of  this  kind  in  regard  to  othei"  comitrie8» 
what  is  to  he  inferred  ?  First  of  all,  we  must  supjxjse  that  they  have  been  re* 
garded  as  being  broad  hints  meant  to  apply  to  Russian  matters,  and  as  indirectly 
blammg  our  Grovernment.  Even  in  the  time  of  Nicholas  it  was  allowed  to 
write  about  foreign  affairs,  and  it  is  well  knosvn  how  the  pubficists  took  advan- 
tage  of  the  ])ermi8sion  for  treating  national  subjects  under  cover  of  foreign 
ones.  Nowatlays  this  childish  artifice  is  abandoned  as  derogatory  to  writers, 
and"  such  suspicions  as  these  seem  ridicidous.  But  admitting  even  that  there 
are  grounds  for  them,  and  that  the  writer  in  putting  forth  those  old  maxims 



had  m  his  thoughts  Russia  more  than  Germany,  is  it  prudent  to  show  that  the 
Government  condesceod  to  read  between  the  lines  and  take  to  tli<»niselve8  j 
strictures  addressed  to  others  f  Moreover  to  persecute  or  to  impos;.'  silence  1 
upon  liberal  and  m«xlerate  views,  is  to  render  the  greatest  service  to  extreme 
ideas,  of  which  thosie  views  are  the  most  formidable  opponents.  Kevohit  ioniv^ts 
do  not  fear  violent  proceedings.  On  the  contraqr,  they  welcome  them  as  the 
best  means  of  fostering  discontent  and  urging  the  people  to  revolt.  What 
this  party  dreads  most  is  a  cabn  discussion  of  their  aims  and  ways  from  t  he 
liberal  point  of  view;  and  they  are  very  grateful  to  the  Goverument  for  a 
touchiness  which  delivers  them  from  such  an  ordeal.  One  cannot  help 
wondenng  at  the  blindness  of  tbijse  to  whom  they  owe  it. 

If  a  further  proof  is  needetj  to  show  the  reputation  of  cleverness  which  the 
revolutionists  have  acquired,  an  anecdote  circulating  throughout  the  city,  and 
given  out  as  perfectly  authentic,  will  afford  it. 

An  official  was  sent  to  one  of  our  southern  towns  on  a  mission  which  had 
some  reference  to  political  crimes  and  was  therefore  unpleasant  to  the  revo*  I 
lutionary  party.     Upon  his  arrival  he  received  several  imonymous  letters  ia  j 
which  he  was  warned  to  renounce  his  task,     Ilo  paid  no  attention  to  these! 
threats^  and  having  .sutx^essfully  ended  his  labours  returned  to  St,  Petersburg  J 
by  a  through  train  on  the  Khartow-Moscow  railway.     At  St.  Petersburg  hd  1 
learned  that  his  tnmk  had  disappeared.    The  a^'tits  of  the  company  excused  J 
themselves  as  best  they  could,  promising  to  in.^titute  an  active  search.    The'* 
lost  trunk  was  found  the  next  day,  and  at  once  returned  to  its  owner.     It  had, 
apparently,  been  left  by  error  at  one  of  the  internietliate  stations,  but  it  was  quite 
safe,  the  lock  not  being  injured.    The  gentleman  iipeneil  it,  and  fmmtl  in  it  all  j 
his  things — except  the  pajx^rs  re<inire*1  for  drawing  up  his  re|>ort.      They 
had  disappeared,  mid,  instead,  there  was  a  note,  to  the  following  effect :  **  You  I 
have  disobeyed  our  orders,  but,  as  you  have  done  us  no  serious  harm,  we 
only  inflict  on  you  a  light  pennlty  in  depriving  you  of  the  raatenals  for  your 

I  am  far  from  vouching  for  the  truth  of  this  tale,  though  it  meets  with 
much  credence  in  society  ;  I  tut  even  supposing  it  to  be  a  fiction,  does  it  not 
show  the  high  opinion  |)reval^t  among  us  regarding  the  ramilicationa  of  the 
Radical  party  ?  Their  numbers  and  their  close  organization  are  now  accepted 
as  matters  of  fact,  and  people  generally  suppose  that  the  purty  has  accuni[>lices 
everywhere,  as  well  in  the  public  administration  as  in  private  circles.  If 
only  the  half  of  these  suspicions  are  well  gmunded,  is  this  the  time  for  perse- 
cuting and  dreading  Lilx^ral  ideas?  Would  it  not  he  wiser  to  ask  all  to  join 
together  in  fighting  the  common  foe  than  to  engage  in  angering  the  most 
faithful  defenders  of  order  ?  Unft>rtunalely  governments  do  not,  any  more 
than  individuals,  always  adopt  the  wisest  course,  and  that  is  the  cause  of 
many  disasters  which  they  have  to  deplore  when  it  ia  too  late, 

T.  S. 



(Under  the  Direction  (•/  Professor  B.  H.  Paxjier,  M.A.) 


^WT7 EST  and  Ead  (Caasell,  Fetter,  &  Galpin)  is  a  narrattvo  of  a  tour  through 
¥w       Europe  and  the  Holj  Laud*     The  routes  taken  is  that  advertiaed  by  Messrs, 
Cook  and  other  touriat  agents,  and  the  information  ia  a  guide*l>ook,  not 
I  imre  and  simple,  hut  interlarded  with  poetic  or  Soriptural  quotations  and  such 
thrilling  perBonal  incidents  as  the  following — all  04TCurring  on  one  pa^  :—**  We  saw 
a  large  snake  sunning  itself  in  the  g^rass  ;  '  **  We  lunchcdunder  a  spleiidid  lemon- 
tree,**    '*  In  the  garden  lay  a  dead  jaekal  which  at  the  first  hlush  (9vc)  I  took  to  be 
a  fox/*     The  author  signs  himself  ''  Rich  in  Peace,*'  and  the  volume  is  evidentlj  a 
fii"st  attempt  at  book-making.     We  hope  that  he  will  not  be  again  tempted  to  enter 
into  competition  with  Jlurray's  or  Baedeker's  Hilndbooka,  which  are  much  more 
interesting  and  far  more  useful  works. 

Miss  Seguin*e  TP'tif/irji  in  Algiers  (London :  Daldj,  Ishister,  &  C'o.)  is  a  hook  of  verj 
different  ouality,  though  professing  to  he  a  sequel  to  or  substitute  for  the  ordinary 
guide- boot.  It  is  in  fact  a  pleasantly  written  and  complete  account  of  the  history 
ajid  general  cliiuaot eristics  of  the  town  of  Algiei^  and  its  neighbourhood,  with  a 
•rast  amount  of  collatenil  tnattcr.  The  author  has  made  good  use  of  the  works  of 
«ther  writers,  especially  Fi^ench,  fairly  acknowletlging  the  sources  from  which  she 
hsL&  dra^^  n  her  information,  and  supplementing  their  statements  by  the  results  of 
keen  personal  obsei-vation.  As  a  winter  residence  for  invalids,  especially  for  those 
affected  with  pulmonary  and  rheumatie  complaints,  Algiers  holds  a  high  rank,  as 
the  statistics  given  in  the  i>pening  chapter  prove.  How  to  get  there^  and  what  to  do 
when  there,  occupy  the  next  three  cliapters,  after  which  we  come  to  the  more 
^uerally  interesting  portion  of  the  work,  the  history  of  the  town  and  country 
itself.  The  earlier  ^mrts  of  this  history — the  founding  of  Carthatje.  the  Roman 
Conouest,  the  mountainous  kingdoms,  the  Libyan  Chnatian  Churches,  and,  later, 

Ion^  the  Arab  Invjisirju^are  to  a  certain  extent  comnionplaces ;  hut  the  account 
here  given  of  Algeriue  piracy  and  Christian  slavery  in  Algiers  will  be  new  to  the 

makirity  of  readers.  1  he  extent  to  which  these  Mussulman  niffians  held  the  whole 
■of  Europe  in  terror  for  nearly  five  liundred  years  may  tie  judged  from  the  fact 

-"  that  there  were  at  one  time  forty  thousand  Christians  in  slavery  in  Algiers,  all  prizes 
-captured  ia  piratical  eacpeditiuns  ;  that  the  pirate  fleet  conflicted  of  three  thousand  sail; 
that  during  one  space  of  six  years,  from  1G74  to  IG'^O,  three  huadrcfl  and  fifty  Kngllah 
Ahips  alone  were  seized  bj*  the  Algerines,  and  no  les:3  than  six  thousand  EngLtah  aubjects 
«o)d  into  slavery,  or  ransomed  only  at  exorbitant  prices ;  when  we  himr  that  some  of  these 
nnfortunate  persons  languisht^  for  scores  of  years  in  their  mieerahle  captivity,  subjected 
to  the  most  cruel  treatment,  sufferiag  hardships  inconeeivahlej  starvation,  and  blows ; 



wKen  we  find  th^t  funongst  tlie  number  of  tbese  tmkappy  al&T€8  were  many  men  of  mnk 
and  infiifeence^  and  of  aJl  the  nations  in  Europe  ;  when  we  rnnniflr^htit  the  insult  and^  1 
mjniy  thos  suffered  bj  Cbmtendom  were  inflicted  by  a  small  and  sfitfii-barbai^>us  stater 
witliout  revenue  saTe  what  waa  taken  in  pitatical  enterpriae,  possessing  but  a  handful 
ol  troops,  and  they  foreif^  ntiroflfiiaries." 

Spain  seems  to  have  made  the  most  att^empts  to  break  up  the  nest  of  Corsairs^  but 
nsimllywith  unfortunate  resulta,  and  the  glorv  of  releasing  Europe  from  the 
ten-onsm  of  the  pirates  was  rea^rred  for  Great  Britjun.  On  Uie  27th  of  August » 
1816,  Lord  Exmouth,  who  had  been  sent  with  a  fleet  of  fire  ships  of  the  line  and 
some  smaller  eunboata,  burnt  the  Algerine  fleet  together  with  the  arsenal  an(J 
storehouse,  and  obtained  the  surrender  of  all  the  Onristiaii  slaTes  and  the  flnal 
abolition  of  Christian  slavery  in  the  State.  BeooTering  from  their  defeat,  the- 
Algerines  soon  commenced  their  old  insolent  and  lawless  behaviour,  and  actuaUy 
succeeded  in  exacting  tribute  from  several  Chriatian  States ^  France  among  the 
number;  but  an  unwaiTautable  insult  Uy  the  Fi*ench  consul  at  length  roused  that 
nation  to  arms,  and  on  the  3rd  July,  1830,  Alj^icrs  finally  fell  into  tbeir  possession^ 
the  stUTOundm^  Beys  sending  in  their  submission  immediately  afterwards.  The 
book  also  contains  a  spirited  sketch  of  the  French  occupation,  and  an  interesting^ 
account  of  the  career  of  Abd-el-Kader. 

Fergn^scnis  Temples  of  the  Jews  (Johu  Murray). — It  is  now  thirty-one  years  since 
Mr,  Fergusson  fii-at  broached  his  theory  of  the  site  of  Herod's  temple  at  Jeru- 
salem and  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  This  theory  may  be  briefly  stated  aa  foUows  r 
Tbe  *•  I>ome  of  the  Rock,"  the  edifice  auppoeed  by  tradition  to  cover  the  site  of  ' 
the  Holy  of  Holies  of  the  Jewish  temple,  is  rtilly  a  building  of  the  time  of 
Constantine  :  ergo  it  is  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  raised  by  tbat  monarchy 
and  not  the  temple  at  all :  ergo  the  cave  under  tbe  rock  is  the  Tomb  of  our  Lord : 
ergo,  aa  tombs  were  ontaide  the  city,  this  is  outside  the  walls  :  ergo^  the  temple 
must  be  pushed  to  the  south-west  comer :  ergo  the  hill  is  Mount  Zion.  This  theory 
has  had  the  advantage  of  being  adopted  in  the  "  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,"  as  if 
proved  beyond  doubt.  In  all  tms  length  of  time,  however,  Mr.  FerjfiiBaon  h&ff 
made  no  converts,  and  the  only  important  architectural  authorities  who  haTd 
written  on  the  subject,  Count  de  Togue  and  Professor  WiDis,  entirely  disagree' 
with  him.  There  are  no  less  than  siit4?en  proposed  restorations  of  JerusaJem, 
but  only  three,  Fergtisson,  Thrupp,.  and  Lewin,  place  the  Temple  in  the  south-west 
comer  of  the  Harem  area. 

The  objections  t*>  Mr.  Fergusaon's  topography  remain  precisely  the  same  now 
as  they  were  when  they  were  stated  thirty  years  ago  by  Catterwood,  Bartlett, 
Williams,  and  others,  particularly  the  following ; 

1.  The  sacred  cave  or  excavation  imder  the  Sakhra,  if  it  b(3  a  tomb,  ia  a  separate 
and  isolated  one,  and  does  not  form  one  of  a  number  or  system  of  tombs,  such  as 
other  known  Jewish  places  of  sepulture  are,  and  such  as  the  tomb  in  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  has  been  lately  prtDved  to  be. 

2.  The  rock  itself  is  identified  by  tbe  author  with  Mount  Zion,  which  he  then 
places  outside  the  city  walls.  The  notion  of  Mount  Zion  beink'  outsiiU  the  city 
must  be  somewhat  startline  even  to  a  student  whose  ideoa  of  Jerusalem  topo- 
graphy are  derived  merely  m>m  Sunday  School  leasons. 

3.  And  this  is  perhaps  aa  conclusive  as  any,  from  a  common-aenae  ptiint  of 
view.  Mr,  Fergusson  asks  us  to  believe  that  while  Solomon  had  a  compftratively 
li?vel  area  on  which  to  build  his  temple^  he  chose  either  to  pla.oe  it  in  a  hole  or  to 
build  up  arches  to  set  it  upon. 

4.  That  we  must  believe  that  the  church  erected  by  Constantine,  aft«r  being 
burned,  pulled  down^  destroyed,  and  rebuilt  &o  many  times,  presents  n<jw  exactly 
the  same  features  as  at  first. 

5.  Constantine,  in  fact,  never  built  a  church  over  the  site  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
at  all ;  he  only  adorned  the  existing  structure  with  columns,  kc.^  and  placed  a  large 
church  to  Uie  east  of  it. 

To  these  very  weighty  objections,  not  one  of  which  Mi\  Fergusson  answers 
satisfactorily  in  his  new  book,  we  may  add  certain  othei's  furnished  by  Major 
Warren's  recent  work.  Warren  entirely  failed  to  discover  any  traces  of  the 
c&stexii  waU  supposed  by  Fergusson  to  exist,  although  he  carefully  searched  for 




them.  He  ma'le  a  contour  map  oi  the  Hai'em  ai'ca  which  ekows  thai  the  hill  has 
a  slope  of  one  inl^e ,-  Mi'.  Fer^usson  discoui^teoualy  dismisses  these  as  **  imag-marj 
contam'8,"  hut  a  glatxee  at  Miijor  Warren's  map  will  prove  that  it  representa  the 
real  contour  of  the  rock,  and  proves  Mr.  Fereusson's  hyix»thctical  siU^  to  be  a 
depression  if  not  a  hole.  Another  result  of  Majtir  Warren's  long  and  careful 
investigations  is  to  prove  the  eastern  side  of  the  area  to  be  the  most  ancient 
structure,  and  the  south-west  comer^ — Mr.  Ft^j"gusson*e  original  temple— to  he  a 
comparative!  J  mod  era  erection. 

The  Phu:!iiiciaii  maBoii  marks  found  by  Warren  on  the  stones,  evidently  m  siiit,  at  a 
depth  of  80  feet  below  the  present  surface,  and  outside  the  limits  of  Fergtiason's  site, 
would  also  seem  a  formidable  argument  against  the  latter *8  theories.  The  arcbee 
and  substructures  foimd  hy  WaiTen  on  the  north  side  of  the  platform,  and  which 
in  all  prohtibility  form  part  of  the  north  cloister^  ai-e  assumed  by  Mr,  Fer|»nsson, 
without  a  shadow  of  evidence,  to  be  part  of  Constantine's  church  of  the  Anastasia. 
The  suhstnietui'es  calletl  Sidomon's  stables,  too,  which  were  supposed  tc*  Ijo  very 
ancient,  are  acknowdedged  t^>  he  too  weak  for  the  support  of  a  mass  of  buildings,  and 
to  these  the  author  triumphantly  appeals  as  piv>ofs  that  the  temple  platform  oould 
not  have  Ijoen  I'aised  above  them.  These  Major  WaiTea  has  demonstrated  to  be 
m odern  recoust ructions . 

The  great  fact»  however,  to  which  Mr.  Fergusson  appeals  is  that  the  Dome  ol 
the  Rock  itself  has  the  character  of  a  Christian  building  of  the  time  of  Constantine, 
and  therefore,  he  argues,  cannot  be  the  building  erected  hy  an  Ai'ah  Caliph  over 
the  traditional  aite  of  the  Jewish  sanctuary,  hut  must  be  that  erected  by  Constan- 
tLne  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  i.e.,  the  church  of  the  Anaatasis,  In  this  argument 
one  most  importMit  factor  is  omitted  ;  the  early  Arab  Caliphs  had  no  art.  There 
was  no  such  thing  as  Arab  art,  and  never  has  been !  When  the  rude  conquerors 
had  founded  an  empire,  they  were  compelled  to  c;ill  in  Byzantitie  and  Persian  aid : 
the  aduiiniatration  of  the  empire  was  Greek,  and  the  very  official  language  for 
some  time  Greek.  As  for  their  architecture,  it  was  Byzantine,  due  to  Byzantine 
architects  in  the  Christian  countries,  as  in  Palestine  and  Persia,  where  Persian 
influence  dominated  as  Lu  Bagdad.  To  cite  no  more  instances,  there  are  the  niins 
of  an  early  mosijue  at  Eas  el  Ain  in  Ccelo-Syriaf  with  an  inscription  still  le^ble 
recording  its  eiYctiou  hy  a  Byzantine  Greek  architect.  Abd  ul  Melik,  the  Imdder 
of  the  "Borne  rtf  the  Rock,**  accf>rding  to  all  historic  testimony,  mast  have 
employed  Byzantine  ai-chitects,  as  Persian  architects  were  out  of  reach,  and  Arab 
arcnitects  did  not  exist.  The  octagonal  chapel,  such  as  the  Dome  of  the  Rock  is,  wag 
a  favourite  style  (4  edifice  at  the  time  :  what  more  uatuiul  than  that  it  should  have 
been  ado|>ted  ?  Mejir  ed  Din,  in  describing  very  minutely  the  process  of  the  erec- 
tloiit  diBtmctly  states  that  the  building  was  erected  on  the  flan  of  a  small  Hhriine 
covering  the  Iradit tonal  ftite  of  the  hulgment'Scot  of  David.,  one  of  the  Byzantine 
shrines  which  had  probably  escaped  destruction,  and  which  Abd  ul  Melik's  clerk  of 
the  works  used  as  an  office.  Nor  must  we  forget  that  a  gi*eat  qimntity  of  the 
debtU  of  the  former  Christian  edilices  of  the  city  were  available  for  building  pur- 

Ces,  and  would  no  doubt  be  used.     To  say  that  because  the  Dome  of  the  Rock 
rs  trjices  of  Constantine^s  style,  it  must  necessarily  be  of  C  ons  tan  tine 's  time,  is 
to  say  the  least  unreasonable. 

Mr.  Fergueson  avers  that  histi^ry  bears  out  his  theory.  Let  us  tcsst  this  state- 
ment by  reference  to  a  single  page  of  historical  extracts  (from  those  collected 
and  published  by  the  Palestine  Exphiration  Fimd  in  theii*  Quarterly  State* 
ment  for  January,  1878)  on  the  position  of  Sion  in  the  fomrth,  fifth,  and  sixth 

1.  The  Bordeaux  Pilgrim  says  in  bad  Latin : — '*  After  leaving  the  Palace  of 
David  ...  in  oi'der  that  you  may  get  out  of  the  wall  fi*om  Sion,  as  you  go 
tow*ardB  the  Neapolitan  gate  (i.e.»  the  gate  of  Neapolis),  on  the  right  hand  .  .  , 
are  the  walla  of  Pilate's  Pnetonum  ;  on  ike  left  1$  ilu*  hill  of  Qohjotha.^* 

2.  Eucherins  says : — ■"'  The  city  is  shaped  nearly  circular.  .  .  .  Sion  com- 
mands the  city  like  a  citadel  .  ,  .  **  (this  woula  never  have  been  said  of  Mount 
Moriah,  which  is  considerablv  lower  than  Sion). 

3.  The  Onomasticon  says  that  the  sepulchre  is  on  the  north  of  Sion. 

All  this  testimony  is  fatal  to  Mr.  Fergusson"  s  theory,  which  must  of  neceamtj 
fall  to  the  ^"ound  if  Sion  is  where  tradition  nuw  places  it. 

The  testimony  of  the  Ai'ab  historians  is  alsc*  very  precise;  and  if  we  accept  the 
tbeorj  here  adTaiioed,  we  must  pronounce  their  accounts  deliberate  falsehoods. 




If,  as  the  author  asserts,  the  site  of  tbc  Holy  Sepulchre  was  deliberateljr  changed 
from  the  Sakhra  to  the  present  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  it  implies  a  widely- 
tamified  conspiracy  of  Chris  tians  and  Saracens,  in  vol  Ting  the  collusion  of  priests, 
monks,  and  evesi  Jewish  pilgriias— ^  collusion  kept  up  at  least  as  long  as  the 
linilding  of  the  sham  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 

In  short,  Mr.  F^^nsson  asks  us  to  believe  that  a  tradition  nnanimoaslT  given 
hj  Jews  of  all  schools.  Christians  of  every  sect,  sjid  Mohammedans  ol  every 
denomination,  is  worthless. 

Tent  Work  in,  Palestine  is  the  first  outcome,  if  we  except  the  Reports 
pnblished  in  the  Journal  of  the  Falestino  Exploration  Fund,  of  the  survey  of 
Western  Palestine. .  Tbat  such  a  btxjk  would  be  published  was,  of  course,  oertiua. 
Keither  the  committee  nor  Lieutenant  Conder  were  likely  to  lose  an  opportunity  of 
showing  in  a  popular  narrative  the  nature  of  the  work  on  which  so  much  time  and 
money  have  been  spent  It  is  only  the  nature  of  the  work  which  is  here  shown  ; 
the  work  itself,  the  great  map,  the  reduced  map,  the  enormous  l>ulk  of  seientifie 
notes  and  memoirs,  are  in  the  hands  of  the  printers  and  wiU  be  given  to  the  world 
later  on.  The  absence  of  these  makes  it  impossible  to  criticize^  with  the  fulness 
which  their  importance  deserves,  Lieutenant  Conder 's  conclusions,  some  of  which 
seem  ingenious,  some  probable,  and  a  few  far-fetched.  We  may,  however,  state 
at  once  tbat  the  general  result  of  the  survey,  a  most  important  and  happy  result, 
la  to  show  the  minute  ^eogi-aphieal  accuracy  of  every  part  of  the  Bible,  This 
eeems  at  last  to  be  established  beyond  a  doubt.  That  oldest  of  Doomsday  books, 
called  after  Joshtm,  is,  topographically,  rescued  from  the  hands  of  those  who 
would  consign  it  to  the  limbo  of  old-world  traditions,  and  becomes  a  geographical 
authority.  The  lost  tt^wns  whose  names  occur  once  for  all  in  the  lists  of  Joshua, 
reappear  in  the  ArAl>ic  name  lists  of  the  survey.  Such  shadowy  places  as  the  Rock 
Etam,  the  Cave  of  Adullam,  Gilgal,  Bethabara,  and  others  Wing  considered  past 
l<x>king  for  aire  foxmd.  In  the  unchanging  East,  where  nothing  ever  is  forgotten, 
the  old  towns  have  retained  theii'  names.  There  seems  every  reason  to  believe 
that  when  the  map  is  published  and  the  name  lietg  acoe«sible,  every  town  men- 
tioned in  the  Bible,  in  Josephiis,  or  the  Talmud,  will  be  recovered. 

Tbis  is  great  gain  by  itself:  gain  more  than  enough  to  justify  the  committee 
of  the  society  for  the  ex|>enditure  they  have  sanctioned  ;  but  there  is  far  more  thtin 
this.  The  book  is  full  of  interest.  Thei'e  ai^e  chaptei^s  on  Samaritans,  in  which 
the  author,  who  is  always  full  of  ideas,  defends  their  own  statement  that  they  are 
no  other  than  descendants  of  the  Jews,  bringing  forward  arguments  which  are 
ingenious  if  not  conelueive.  But,  indeed,  there  seems  no  good  reason  for  question- 
'  ing  the  Samaritan  ti-adition.  No  one  has  ever  seen  a  Samaritan  without  acquiring 
the  conviction  that  he  is  a  Jew  by  fkseent.  There  are  chapters  on  the  native 
customs  of  the  fellahin,  on  those  of  the  Beduwin ;  on  various  districts  of  the 
country;  on  the  present  condition  and  future  prospects  of  the  country;  and  on 
JeruBalem.  The  whole  book  is  full  of  descriptions  of  scenery  which  are  perfectly 
delightful.  Bean  Stanley,  in  his  *'  Sinai  and  Palestine/*  alone  surpasses  this  young 
officer  of  Engineims  lu  the  ix>wer  of  bringing  a  landscape  before  the  eyes  of  his 
"readers.  And  even  the  Bean  does  not  show  a  more  passionate  feeling  for  colour 
and  form. 

One  is  naturally  anxious  to  know  what  views  Lieutenant  Conder  takes  upon  the 
vexed  questions  of  Jerusalem  topography.  It  is  gratifying  to  find  that  he  is 
whoDy  free  from  the  heresy  of  Mr.  Fergusson,  whose  theoiy,  indeed,  he  does  not 
even  condescend  to  notice.  Had  not  that  gentleman  only  recently  published  a 
new  and  more  elaborate  statement  of  his  astounding  theory,  we  should  have  been 
inclined  to  think  that  he  was  ashamed  of  it,  and  incHned  to  let  the  whole  thing  be 
re^rded  as  a  freak  of  genius,  a  t&ur  de  force  in  ai'chitectural  reasoning.  As  we 
pointed  out  al>jve,  what  the  arguments  of  Willis,  Williams,  and  others  left  imde- 
molished  of  the  Fergussonian  abaurdity  had  been  finally  destroyed  by  Wan^en's 
discoveries.  Lieutenant  Conner's  rock -levels  put  the  finishing -stroke,  if  that  is 
necessary.  It  seems  to  ua  that  Mr,  Fergusson  has  received  the  comb  de  grace. 
Apart  from  all  other  arguments,  that  of  Eastern  immutability,  as  is  well  shown  by 
Lieutenant  Conder,  is  most  important.  Immutability  is  the  most  striking  law  of 
Eastern  life.  The  Bible  becomes  a  living  record  to  those  who  have  heartl  in  men's 
months  the  very  phrases  of  the  Bible  characters.  The  name  of  every  village  is 
Hebrew:  each  stands  in  the  dust-heap  into  which  the  ancient  buildings  beneath 



its  present  cabins  bave  cramljled,  and  the  old  necropolis  is  cut  in  rock,  near  the 
modern  site.  For  tlionBands  of  yeaxa  the  people  have  gone  on  living'  in  the  eame 
way,  and  in  the  same  place,  venerating  the  same  shrines,  building  tbcir  fortresses 
on  the  Bame  vantage- ground. 

Tbie  is  the  case  m.  Jemsalem  as  well.  Antonia  is  still  a  barrack.  The  fortress 
of  the  upper  city  is  still  a  fortress  \  on  the  rock-scarp  of  the  **  Tow*>r  of  the 
Comer,'*  a  comer  tower  now  stands;  the  upper  market  is  a  market;  the  lower 
market  is  a  market;  the  tem|>le  area  is  stiU  a  sanctuary ;  the  Ruck  of  Foundation 
is  still  covered  by  a  sacred  building.  These  things  are  not,  in  themselves*  proofs, 
but  they  are  confirmations. 

Lastly,  it  remains  to  be  said  that  the  volumes  aie  illustrated  by  many  woodcuts 
from  drawings  made  by  the  writer.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  perhaps  the  woi*8t 
map  of  Palestine  ever  issued  should  be  allowed  to  disfigure  the  pages  of  what  is  oa 
the  whole  one  of  the  best  books  on  the  country  ever  written. 

Captain  Burnaby's  On  Horseback  through  Asia  Mirwr  (Seventh  E^lition  :  Sampsoi* 
Low  <St  Co.)  is  a  very  interesting  book.     The  author  is  already  well  known  by  hi» 
former  books  of  travel,  and  the  fact  that  the  work  before  us  has  already  reached  its 
seventh  edition  shows  how  thoroughly  he  is  appreciated  by  English  people.     Indeed » 
he  has  seldom  been  more  amusing  and  full  of  anecdote  than  in  this  account  of  hia 
ride  into  the  little- visited  part^  of  Asia  Minor.     Captain  Bui-naby,  hke  all  tra-  I 
vellere  who  have  seen  much  of  the  Turks,  is  full  of  pi-aise  of  their  honest,  simple,,  j 
hospitable  manners »  when  beyond  the  corrupt  influence  of  the  capital.     **  People  , 
in  this  country,*'  he  writes,  **  who  abuse  the  Turkish  nation,  and  accuse  them  of  J 
every  vice  under  the  sun,  would  do  well  to  leave  off  writing  pamphlets  and  travel  1 
a  little  in  AnatoHa.'*     In  the  preface  we  are  told,  *'X  met  people  of  many  different  j 
races^Tmks,  Armenians,  Greeks,  Turkomans,  Circassians,  Km-ds,  and  PersianB*  j 
They  almost  invariably  received  me  very  hospitably."    Equally  striking  is  the  i 
testimony  of  the  English  Vice-Consul  at  Angora.     A  friend  of  his,  an  Englishman 
named  ThompFon,  was  travelling  from  the  Black  Sea  to  Angora.     In  one  village 
lie  found  the  **  khan  "  full,  and  so  proceeded  ttj  pass  the  night  in  the  open  air.     But 
presently  he  was  awakened  by  im.  old  Turk,  who  inquired  why  he  was  sleeping 
there,  and,  hearing  the  cause,  said,  **  This  is  not  right.     A  stranger,  and  outside 
the  gate.     Come   with   me.''     Taking   Mr.  Thompson  by   the  hand,  the  Turk 
led   him   to  his  house,  gave  him  a  clean   bed   and  breakfast,  waited   himself 
upon  his  guest,  and  wifuld  not  receive  any  remuneration.     "  Now/*  added  the 
Cc>nsiil,  **  the  Turk  was  a  Mohamuiedan  and  Mr.  Thompson  a  Christian ;  if  the 
Turk  htid   been   in   England,  and   had  found  hiuiself  placed  in  a  similai*  pre- 
dicament to  Mr.  Thompson,  do  you  think  that   there   are  many  Englishmen 
who  would  have  behaved  so  generously  to  an  utter  at  ran  ^^r  P  **     It  wo\ild  be 
useless    to  multiply  eitmcts.     Indeed,  the  botik    so   abounds   in  pithy  stories, 
that  we  are  tempted  as  we  turn  almost  every  page.     The  passages  between  the  j 
English  sei-vant   and  Osmaa  are  aflmirable  in  their   way  ;   and  here  we  musti 
notice  tbat  the  portrait  in  this  edition  is  no  longer  that  of  the  author,  but  that  of 
his  sei'^'ant,  Radford.     The  chapter  '*  In  Memonam**  bnefiy  sketches  his  life.     In.  i 
Captain  Bm-naby's  service  in  all  his  travels,  he  seems  to  have  i^un  no  ordinmy 
risks,  and  to  have  preserved  the  same  ecxjhiess  throughout,  thinking  only  of  him  j 
master,  and  never  shrinking  from  danger  or  hardship.     Typhus,  contracteti  during  | 
the  retreat  of  Suleiman  Pacha's  army,  proved  fatal  to  the  poor  fellow  forty-eight 
hours  after  landing  in  England.     The  genuine  sorrow  with  which  his  death  is 
mentioned  does  hcmour  to  both  master  and  servant. 

The  appendix  is  devoted  to  the  designs  of  Russia  in  Europe  and  Asia,  and  to 
the  recapitulation  of  the  cruelties  alleged  to  be  practised  by  the  Russians  on 
various  occasions  since  the  Crimean  Wai',  substantiated  by  extracts  from  English 
official  dcH-uments.  Captain  Bumaby,  no  doubt,  knows  Russia  well,  is  able  t-o^ 
speak  the  language,  and  has  travelled  further  in  that  counti-y  than  any  English- 
man living.  Such  a  man  is  undoubtedlv  qualified  tt>  form  an  opinion  upon  Rus- 
sian polities,  and  that  opinion  he  here  fearlessly  expresses.  He  would  Lave  had 
Engird  interfere  on  the  occasion  of  the  fall  of  Plevna,  and  earnestly  entreats  hia 
countrymen  not  to  permit  Russian  intrigue  to  prevail  in  Afghanistan  and  Persia. 
Indeed,  if  we  rightly  understand  bis  drift,  he  considers  it  our  duty  to  annex  or 
**  protect  '*  the  greater  part  of  Asia,  lest  it  should  fall  into  Russian  hands. 
Whether  this  process,  which  pnictically  means  undertaking  the  management  of 


mil  ih^  comitries  betwefn  CypruB  and  oar  preaent  Isdian  frontier,  would  not 
cost  rather  more  than  it  is  worth,  is  far  the  British  tax-payer  to  determine.  If 
we  lose  India,  no  d  oubt  we  k»8e  everything.  But  India,  wt?  haTe  often  been  told, 
is  bankrupt,  and  to  annex  half  Asia  to  protect  it  seems  not  imHkeJy  to  lead  to  the 
hankniptcy  of  England. 

lira.  Bateon  Joyner's  book  yCifpru^,  Historic^il  and  Ihscripiipe,  adapted  from, 
the  Goman  of  Pninz  von  Lohen  with  mnch  additional  matter :  W,  H,  Allen  & 
Co.)  ia  very  exactly  described  as  '^ad^tpUd  from  the  German  with  much  additional 
matu^r/*  We  are  inclined  to  think  that  Herr  von  Ijc»hcr's  simple  narrative  of 
travel  <x.>uld  have  made  it«  way  Tery  weU  alone,  without  all  the  **  ailditioniU 
matter'*  with  which  it  haa  been  emmmbered.  At  one  moment  the  reader  is 
noting  with  real  interest  the  impressions  of  an  intelligent  explorer :  at  the  next 
h©  is  bewildered  by  Syrians  and  Phcenicians,  Amasis  of  Egvpt,  and  Teucer  of 
Salamis.  Ptolemy  and  Tacitus,  Venetians  and  Turks,  Philip  of  Navarre,  Marshal 
Feliiig€r,  and  Hugo  de  Giblet. 

Of  all  the  various  masters  of  the  island,  the  Knights  of  St,  John  seem  to  be 
the  only  ones  whose  memorial  is  not  perished  with  them.  The  best  wine  in  Cyprus 
is  still  muned  '*  Commanderia^''  and  in  it  Herr  von  Liiher  duly  drinks  *'  to  the 
health  of  the  brave  knights."  "  From  them  likewise/*  he  informs  us,  **  the 
islanders  learned  how  to  preserve  the  little  birds  called  becaficos,  by  simplj 
pluckini;  them  and  packing  them  in  jars  filled  with  wine.  The  wine  soaks 
thoroughly  into  the  flesh,  which  becomes  slightly  hardened,  and  of  most  delicious 
flavour.     Great  numliers  of  these  delicate  little  birds  are  killed  in  Cyprus.*' 

Indeed  the  account  of  the  fare  of  the  island  is  better  than  we  should  have 
expected,  while  fever  is,  strange  to  say,  scarcely  mentioned. 

The  account  of  the  travellers  reception  at  Eastertide,  by  a  simple  and  hospitable 
Greek  family,  is  verj  pleasant,  while  it  is  etrange,  after  the  usual  Euixipean  expe- 
riences of  Turkish  officials^  to  read  his  enthusiastic  account  of  his  **  raptieh,**  and 
o£  **  my  goc»d  friend,  the  pacha."  The  drr,  burning  heat  of  the  summer  montbs, 
during  which  all  the  people  do  is  to  ask  **  how  long  it  will  l>e  Wfore  the  rain  comes 
again  ? " '  is  admitted  even  by  so  confirmed  an  optimist  as  Herr  von  Lither,  and  must, 
we  fear,  i-emain  a  terrible  objection  to  our  permanent  ciccupation  of  the  country^ 
The  restoration  of  its  once  famous  forests  may,  no  doubt,  restore  moisture  to  the 
climate,  and  the  eucalyptus  may  work  wonders  with  the  malaria,  but  the  trees  are 
not  yet  planted,  and  when  planted  their  effect  can  only  be  ffradnal.  Yet  when  wc 
iwidof  the  olives  and  vin^,  the  cotton,  sugar-canes,  and  sifi-worms  for  which  the 
island  was  once  celebrated,  and  note  how  evidently  our  author  enjoyed  his  ramble 
in  the  period  immediately  preceding  the  British  occupation,  we  begin  to  hope,  in 
spite  of  the  bills  of  mortality  with  which  we  have  latelT  been  so  assiduously 
furnished,  that  English  enterprise  and  science  may  stifi  make  something  of 

EmiledeLaTeleye  :  L'Afrique  eeniraUU  la  CanfSren^e  oiographiqne  de  BmxeU99 :  * 
LMres  et  DScouveHei  de  Sianletf ;  Lee  E^ypUefis  d^ns  jjAfrigne  ^mmtoriale,  par 
Bujae,  avec  deux  cartes  (Bruxelles:  Librairie  Europeenne,  C,  Maqnardt). — In 
his    short   sketch  of  the  brilliant   future  which  awaits  Central   Africa,    M.   de 
Lavele^e  has  found  a  congenial  subject.     With  admirable  clearness  he  summarizes 
the  action  of  the  Congress  of  Brussels,  and  explains  the  objects  which  their  new 
expedition  is  intended  to  attain,  by  establi^iing  a  chain  of  posts  connected  with 
the  seaport  of  Zanzibar  and  with  each  other,  by  means  of  which  civilization  may 
^*adaallT  be  introduced  into  the  almost  uniknown  region  beyond  the  great  Lake  , 
Tanganika.     A  road  will,  it  is  hoped,  connect  these  stations  ere  long,  and  for  the  j 
meantime  M.  Laveleye  iugeniously  suggests  that  elephants  might  be  used  for  i 
transport,  instead  of  the  crowds  ox  native  porters  witoo,ut  whom  trsTelling  is  at 
present  impossible.    But  of  all  these  he  confidently  speaks  as  mere  temporary 
makeshifts,  precursors  of  the  railway  which  **  will  certamlj  be  ooustructed  before 
the  end  of  the  century.'^    These  words  open  strange  perspectives,  to  use  an  ex^uvs- 
sive  Gallicism ;  but,  not  satisfied  with  that,  M.  de  Laveleye  proceeds  to  point  out 
that  by  steamer  up  the  Nile  we  may  already  in  two  months  reach  the  great  lakes  ' 
of  Central  Africa,  especially  if  the  conjecture  of  the  explorer  Gessi  prove  to  be  ^ 
correct.     This  gentleman,  an  Italian  engineer,  acting  as  lieutenant  to  Colonel  j 
Gordon,  after  an  exploration  of  the  Lake  Albert  Kyanza,  discovered  that  the 
Nile,  immediately  below  the  point  at  which  it  leaves  the  lake,  divides  into  two 

TOL,  XXXIY.  0 



separate  atreams.  One  of  these,  we  know,  passes  througli  the  momitaiiioiia  region 
called  by  the  Arabs  Babr-el-Djebel,  where  the  rapids  at  the  Egyptian  etation  of 
DulHi  reader  navigation  imTx>s6ibU\  But  the  otbcr  bi'anch,  it  eeeuia  probable,  is 
no  other  than  the  river  lei,  which  paBses  to  the  west  through  the  country  of  the 
Niam-Niam  trilH%  and  joins  the  main  river  at  the  point  where  it  forms  the  great 
morass  full  i>f  ilooting  islands.  It'  this  be  true,  it  will  be  i.MjPsible  for  sttyimers  to 
l>a88  directly  from  the  sea  into  Lake  Albert  Nyanza,  to  which  lake,  thanks  to  the 
exertions  of  Sir  Samuel  Baker  and  Colonel  Gordon,  the  Egyptian  empire  now 
ex:tend8.  It  is  dii!icidt  for  us  to  form  any  idea  of  the  immense  extent  of  tkeee  two 
inland  seas,  the  Yictorm  iind  Albert  Nyanzas.  Bt^tween  them  lies  the  most  mag- 
nificent scenery  that  can  be  seen  anywhere  in  the  world,  while  fiulher  on»  one 
degree  south  of  the  equator,  lies  the  mountain  region  of  Ankori  iind  Rowanda. 
Here  we  are  assm'ed  the  scene J*y  of  the  Alps  and  the  fresh  verdure  of  the  Tyrol 
ai'e  to  be  found  imder  aii  etjuatorial  sun,  combined  with  the  cool  climate  of  an 
Indian  hill  station. 

Space  prevents  our  following  M.  de  Laveleye's  interesting  account  of  the  other 
Afiican  rivers,  the  Congo  or  Lualulja  with  its  enormous  volume  of  waters,  and 
the  Zamb<?si,  Livingstone's  river,  with  its  marvellous  cataract  "where  smoke 
sountls,''  as  the  natives  say.  The  remainder  of  the  volume  is  devoted  to  a  transla- 
tion of  some  of  Stanley  and  Pocock's  letters,  and  an  account,  by  M.  Bujac,  of 
what  has  been  done  by  the  Egyptian  Government  in  extending  its  dominion, 
putting  down  the  slave  trade,  &c,,  under  the  Khedive's  able  nroconsuls.  Baker  and 
Gordon-  We  are  fio  accustomed  to  connect  the  name  of  Egypt  with  the  Suez 
Canab  the  PvramidSp  the  Baira  and  Moukabala,  and  MessiB.  Goschen,  Joubi^rt, 
and  Rivers  wila  ►n,  that  we  forget  that  Egypt  is  becoming  one  of  the  grt^at  empires 
of  the  world,  with  tlie  enormous  advantage  of  a  main  artery  of  ec>mmerce  ready- 
made  ia  its  fsmiona  river,  and  of  a  totally  virgin  country  beyond,  whose  commercial 
resources  are  enormous,  and  only  \Kmt  for  Euix>peana  to  develop  their  riches.  The 
rest  of  the  world  has  gi'own  old,  but  Africa  has  remained  young,  "  A  hundredth 
part  of  the  efforts/*  writes  M.  de  Ijiiveleye  suggestively.  **  which  the  conquest  of 
India  required,  would  suffice  to  found  here  an  empire,  gi'ander,  more  pix^ 
duetive,  and  leas  exposed  to  attacks  from  without,  than  that  of  the  East  India 

EmUe  Banning:  L'AfiHque  et  la  Conference  geop^aphlque  de  BruaeUes. 
Denxieme  edition,  revue  et  augmentee,  avec  3  cartes  et  16  gravnres  (Bnixelles: 
Librairie  Eiupopeenne,  C.  Muquardt;  Merzbach  et  Falk,  editeiirs,  Librau-es  de  la 
Com\  45,  Rue  de  la  Regencej.-^At  a  time  like  the  present,  wheu  all  the  great 
Powers  of  Europe  seem  engaged  in  interminable  and  impri>fitabie  disputes,  it  is  a 
relief  to  land,  that  one  small  State  is  sufficiently  peaceful  at  home  to  be  able  to  iind 
leisiure  for  the  promution  of  civilization  aljroad.  A  Geogi-aphical  Conference,  it 
will  Ik*  rememliered,  met  at  Brussels  in  the  year  1876.  Six  of  the  Great  Powers 
were  there  repi^sented,  although  merely  by  {private  individuals,  and,  under  the 
able  presidency  of  the  King  of  the  Belgians,  it  was  then  detei*mineil  to  send  a 
new  exploring  expedition  to  Africa.  An  executive  committee,  consisting  of  Sir 
Bai-tle  Frere,  Dr.  Kat?htigal,  the  African  explorer,  and  M.  de  Quatrefages,  vice- 
president  of  the  Parisian  Societe  de  Gcog^raphie,  was  con^ituted,  and  nearly  all 
the  nations  of  Eui-ope  have  since  that  time  formed  committees  with  a  view  to 
providing  tiie  necessary  fvinds.  The  expedition  will  start  from  Zanzibar,  and  will 
proceed  ti:»  Lake  Tanganika,  founding  upon  the  road  thrt^e  permanent  atntionn. 
The  English  establishment  on  the  chores  of  Lake  Tanganika  will,  it  is  hoped, 
form  a  fourth  link  in  this  chain,  and  enable  the  centnil  and  most  important 
station  to  be  established  at  Kyangwe.  This  to^vn,  which  mauy  of  our  readers  will 
hear  of  for  the  first  time,  is  almost  exactly  in  the  centre  of  Sontbem  Africa, 
Livingstone,  Stanley,  and  Cameron  all  bear  witness  to  its  immense  importance, 
situated  tis  it  is  upon  a  large  river  which  communicatee  witli  the  Atlantic,  and 
being  already  a  great  centre  of  ti-ade  among  the  various  tribes  of  the  intenor. 

M.  Biuining  ^ives  a  short  but  very  clear  outline  of  what  has  been  hitherto  occom- 
pMshed  in  African  exploi-ation,  and,  as  Englishmen,  we  may  feel  proud  that  sd 
large  a  part  of  this  work  has  been  accomplished  l>y  our  countrymen.  He  describes 
the  csharacteristic  habits  of  the  Negro  tribes,  and,  indeed,  glances  at  all  the  motley* 
races  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  **  Great  Dark  Ctjutinent,"  from  the  Abyseinians, 
with  their  groteeque  Chmtianity  and  strange  parcwlies  of  the  old  feudal  system  of 
Europe*  to  the  elave^dealing  Arabs  and  Portuguese  of  the  Atlantic  coast.    It  ia  to 


the  pr<»valeiice  of  the  slave  trade,  ratlier  than  to  any  peculiarities  of  climate  or 
national  character,  that  the  degradation  and  barbajriam  of  the  native  nices  of 
Afrca  is  due ;  and  wo  heaitilj  wish  the  Belgian  mission  God-speed  in  its  effort  td 
destroy  that  hateful  traffic,  and  to  introduce  civilization  into  the  remote  basin  o£ 
the  Lnaluba,     Three  excellent  maps  accompany  this  \x^lume. 


(U^der  the  Direction  qf  Professor  S.  Rawsok  Gardiner,) 

TIITHEB.  the  depresaiun  of  trade  or  the  pre-occnpation  of  political  excitement 
r1  .  has  cast  a  blight,  at  least  bb  far  as  historical  literature  is  ooncemed,  on  th^ 
-^-^  publishers'  annoimcements  of  the  season.  To  make  up  a  decent  list  of 
recent  or  forthcoming  works^  it  is  necessary  to  have  recoiii*se  to  one  book  which 
is  a  republication  of  articles  contribnted  to  periodicals  some  thirty  years  ago, 
and  to  another  book  which,  though  relating  to  English  history,  is  written  by  & 
German,  in  his  oivn  language  and  for  his  r.wn  countrymen.  In  these  two  in- 
stances, however,  the  qimlitj  makes  amends  f >  »r  the  quantity.  Dr  Mozley's  essays 
iEssaifg  Historical  ami  Theological :  Bivingtons,  1878^  and  Professor  Stern's 
recently  completed  Life  of  Milton  {Milton  und  ^eine  Zeit,  von  Alfred  Stemj 
Leipzig,  Biincker  and  Humblot,  1877,  1879),  stiind  equally  above  the  line  of 
ephemeral  literature.  , 

Br.  Mozley's  Historical  Essays — this  is  not  the  place  to  speak  of  thoee  om- 
theological  eubjects-^r elate  to  three  personages  wbose  characters  and  career  retain 
an  ever-fresh  interest  for  evei*y  generation  of  Englishmen's trafford,  Laud,  and 
Cromwell.  His  book  is  certainly  not  one  which  a  wise  t«mcher  would  place  in  the 
hands  of  an  ingenuous  youth  desiring  to  acquii*e  a  fair  idt-a  of  the  moral  and 
political  movements  of  the  seven  teen  th  century.  But  for  the  experienced  student 
of  history,  who  knows  how  to  supply  what  the  atithor  hiis  omitted,  it  would  l>e 
difficult  to  name  a  more  positively  refreshing  book.  Br.  Mozley  mus  a  hard  , 
ilfibter,  and  if  his  defence  of  his  own  position  was  none  of  the  strongest,  few 
Imters  have  been  able  to  strike  so  decisively  on  tlie  weak  points  of  an  aSrersarr's 
ease^  When  Dr,  Mozley  was  still  in  his  VK^iyhood.  a  sister  characterised  hini 
exactly  as  be  unintenti<:»naliy  portrays  himself  in  these  Essays :  '*  There  is  mostly 
a  good  deal  of  justice  in  his  observations,  yet  the  decided,  nncjualiiied,  and  deter- 
mined way  in  which  becxpreBBCBtlicm,  niakes  them  appeal*  amusingly  ex tmvagant,"  \ 
In  his  praises  of  Strafford  and  Laud,  if  not  in  bis  herce  attack  upon  Cromwell, 
there  is  undoubtedly  **  a  good  deal  of  iustice/*  Wntten  at  a  time  when  HaUam 
and  Forster  were  the  predominant  spints  of  history.  Dr.  Mozley  paints  Strafford 
and  Land  in  the  light  of  their  own  ideals.  He  allows  that  the  ideals  were  not 
perfect,  and  he  skips  over  with  auspicious  rapidity  the  facts  which  make  against 
his  favourites.  He  informs  us  how  Strafford  bearded  the  Irish  Parliament, 
without  telling  us  of  the  unrepresentative  character  of  that  assembly,  which  mado 
the  effort  easy.  He  says  nothing  of  the  \(m^  delay  in  the  trial  of  Motrntnorris, 
or  of  the  King's  broken  promise  in  the  matter  of  the  Plantation  of  C^mnaught^ 
On  Strafford's  pr*>ceedings  in  the  critical  year  1640,  his  narrative  la  ludicnriili^ly 
inadequate;  and  in  accounting  for  L^ii'^-^  i nimofl it y  against  the  Prynnes  and  tho 
Leightons,  he  forgets  to  say  anythii  the  effeet  of  his  iron  (Jiscipline  upon 

men  like  Sibbes  and  Winthrop.     !X  iss  his  argument  moves  in  no  ni.^aii 

eircle.  He  tells  of  the  men  whose  liyes  he  sets  before  us  as  they  wished  to  bo  if 
not  exactly  as  they  were,  and  it  is  the  first  canon  of  biography  that  the  know- 
ledjSpe  of  a  man's  aims  is  the  only  safe  key  to  the  knowledge  of  what  he  is.  Nor 
is  It  only  on  the  biographical  side  that  Br.  Mozley's  contribution  deserves  respect. 
Erery  generation  of  historians  brings  with  it  some  prepossession  of  it«  own,  and 
the  prepossession  of  the  generation  in  the  midst  of  which  these  Essays  were  written 

0  2 



was  a  belief,  implicit  if  not  expressed,  that  the  ConBtitution,  a.a  it  started  into  life 
in  the  jear  1688,  waa  the  ruh^.  of  all  things  hitman  and  divine  in  the  beginning  of 
the  aeventoenth  centnrj.  With  a  restrained  force  that  is  all  the  more  impressire^ 
Dr.  Mozley  tuiiiE  thia  notion  iaaide  out,  till  it  becomea  absolutely  ridiculous. 
Still  more  gratifying  iathe  canduitr  with  which  he  rejects  all  falae  supports  for  his 
own  arjE^iiments*  The  ecclesiastical  policy  of  Laud,  he  states  boldly ^  was  an  aggreB- 
sire  policy.  It  attacked  an  evil  condition  of  things,  and  was  unhappily  worsted 
in  the  encounter.  His  dealing  with  Cromwell  is  indeed  less  satisfactory,  Piiritan- 
isni  is  to  him  so  unspeakably  odious,  that  he  cannot  sympathize  with  it  sufficient ly 
to  understand  it.  But  even  here  his  searching  cnticisma  ai'e  of  the  kind  to  do  gi  so  I 
to  the  heart  of  the  lover  of  tnith.  When  he  persists  in  calhng  Cromwell  a  hj^x*- 
crite,  he  carcf  ally  explains  that  he  does  not  mean  an  ordinary  liar.  What  he  means 
is  that  he  was  a  hypocrite  in  the  Beneo  in  which  the  wivrtl  was  employed  by  Bishop 
Butler.  The  religion  of  the  Puritans,  he  holds,  '*  was  the  form,  not  the  reality  i  it 
allowed  them  in  immoral  practices,  and,  indeed,  was  itself  in  some  respects?  immoral. 
By  some  foice^  some  energy  of  delusion,  they  believed  a  lie/*  Those  who  would 
reject  such  a  conclusion,  as  being  Httlc  more  than  can  be  said  of  all  religion  as 
ffi*asp€d  by  minds  limited  by  human  imperfection,  may  nevertheless  thank  Dr. 
Mozley  for  setting  before  them  the  problem  which  has  to  be  solved  before  a 
final  judgment  can  be  passed  on  aueh  deeds  be  the  aiaught^^r  of  Drogheda,  and  the 
expulsion  of  the  Irish  from  their  homes. 

It  is  not  without  significance  that  Dr.  Mozley,  in  balancing  the  Puritan  states- 
man against  Strafford,  docs  not  seem  to  have  troubled  himseli  to  look  about  for  a 
Puritan  thinker  to  balance  aj^auist  Laud.  To  fill  up  the  void  we  can  now  have 
recourse  to  Professor  Stem's  Life  of  llOton,  of  which  the  concluding  volumes  have 
recently  been  issued.  It  would  be  too  much  t<3  aay  that  he  has  grasped  all  the 
elements  of  the  histoi'y  of  the  time.  He  has  not  succeeded  in  penetrating  into  the 
inner  life  of  the  party  opposed  to  Puritanisui.  Whatever  hie  title  may  profesa,  his 
book  is  a  l>iography  of  a  single  man  in  relation  to  things  ai'ound  him,  and  not  a 
complete  history  of  the  time  in  which  Milton  lived.  The  book  is  fairly  and  dis- 
passionately wi-itten.  The  poet's  weaknesses  as  well  as  liis  strong  points  are  well 
orongbt  out,  and  the  whole  work  is  wi*itten  in  a  style  which  carries  the  reader  on 
insensibly  from  pajge  to  page. 

Professor  Stern  justly  sets  aside  the  theory  of  Milton*8  life  which  has  been  advo- 
cated by  Pixifeasor  Seefey.  He  does  not  allow  that  he  represented  equally  the  two 
great  movements  of  the  Revolution,  the  movement  for  the  supremacy  of  a  repre- 
eenUitive  assembly,  and  the  movement  for  moral  and  intellectual  culture.  Miltom 
he  holda,  cared  for  the  latter  with  aU  his  heart.  His  sympathy  with  the  former 
was  forced,  and  adopted,  without  much  inquiry,  from  the  men  around  him.  Even  in 
the**Defensio  Populi  AngUcani  *'  Professor  Stern  detects  um^eality  in  the  sweeping 
aenfceaieeB  about  parhamentary  goverament,  which  quite  |)reparea  him  for  the 
advocacy  of  a  self -electing  coimcil  at  the  eve  of  the  Hestoration,  His  work  is  c^- 
culatod  to  present  to  us  SlOton*s  character  as  a  whole »  as  it  has  never  been  before 
presented.  We  are  not  called  on  to  excuse  or  to  defend,  but  simply  to  under- 

Af t^r  these  two  books  it  is  not  necessaxy  to  say  much  of  others  relating  to  the 
period  with  which  we  are  here  concerned.  Mi'.  Hamilton's  **  Quarter  Sessions " 
{Qitarier  Sesslotta  from  Quae  ft  Elizabeth  to  Qwaen  Aane  :  Illustrations  of  Local 
GovenwimU  and  History,  drawn  fx'om  original  records,  chiefly  of  the  county  of 
Devon :  Sampfion  Low  A  Co.,  1878)  is  one  of  that  valuable  class  of  works  wtiich 
teU  us  in  an  unpretending  way  of  those  sociid  phenomena  which  underlie  the 
political  facts  of  histoi'y.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  his  example  will  be  widely 
followed.  He  has  helped  to  supply  a  want  which  every  historian  feels  to 
exiat.  It  is  possible  that,  in  aome  auch  field,  Mr.  Spencer  Walpole  might  find 
usefid  occupation.  He  has  evidently  mistaken  his  vocation  in  appearing  as 
the  author  of  A  History  of  England  from  the  ConcJmion  of  the  Great  War  in 
1815  (Longmans,  Green,  &  Co.,  1B7B).  His  book  shows  signs]  of  considerable 
indnafcry,  and  of  a  fair  and  candid  spirit ;  but  he  has  failed  to  make  it  in- 
teresting. In  other  words  he  has  neither  narrative  power ^  nor  philosophic 
thought.  He  does  not  distinguish  what  is  important  from  what  is  unimportant. 
His  book  may  perhaps  be  useful  as  a  work  of  reference,  but  will  hardly  attract 
many  readers.  The  story  of  the  Manchester  Massacre,  of  Hone's  Trial,  aud  of  the 
passing  of  the  Reform  Bill,  are  told  with  a  dull  laboi^ioasness  which  compares  most 




mnf&voiirably  with  the  Bame  etoiies  aa  they  appeal'  in  Mibs  MartiBcan's  ^*  Hiatory 
«>f  the  Peace/'  a  wr»i'k  which  was  rcj:  riute^l  not  very  Iod^  ago  in  a  hanJj  foi-ui  l*y 
Messrs.  G»  BeJl  and  Sons,  a  firm  to  which  wc  owe  the  reappearance  of  the  intm- 
diictioB  to  that  work,  under  the  title  of  A  History  of  England,  A..D.  1800 — 1816. 

One  more  book  dealing  with  the  same  period  as  that  which  has  occupied  Mr. 
Bpencer  WaJpole  remains  t«.»  be  noticed.  It  would  be  hard  to  judge  Lord  Tei§^- 
iiiontb*8  Reminiscences  of  Manij  F«^ftr*(I>avid  Douglas,  1878)  by  the  ordinary  canona 
of  literary  criticism.  It  is  simply  the  outpouring  of  an  old  man's  memory.  Tfainga 
unimportant,  and  people  about  whom  nobody  cares  to  hear  anything  whatever, 
appear  in  Btraii^  juxtaposition  with  erenta  like  the  Battle  of  Waterloo  and 
persons  like  Wiiberforce  and  Macaulay,  The  lio<:)k  is  one  well  adapted  to  the 
practice  of  judicious  skipping:,  but  it  is  one  in  which  the  reader  who  d^ies  not  skip 
in  too  wholesale  a  manner  is  certain  to  find  plenty  to  amuse  and  interest  him. 


{Under  the  THredicn  of  Matthew  Bbownb.) 

THFiBE  are  many  signs  that  in  the  literature  of  the  primary  controversies  of 
theology  we  have  come  to  a  pause.  Of  Pr&tetts  and  Amade^us^  a  Con^espond* 
ence,  edited  by  Aul»rey  de  Vcre  (G.  Kegan  Paul  k  Co.),  it  cannot  be  said 
that  it  is  all  of  it  flogging  dead  horse,  and  a  gi-eat  deal,  both  of  the  writing  and  the 
thinking,  is  both  beautiful  and  helpful ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  though tful  readers, 
well  up  in  late  discussinuB  of  the  bearing  of  Evolution  on  Tliciamand  Chiistianitv, 
will  hardly  find  that  thiK  correspondence  between  a  Roman  Cathohc  tutor  and'a 
gentleman  who  was  formerly  his  pupil  pushes  matters  any  further.  It  is  well 
worth  looking  into,  and  more  than  looking  into ;  but  the  elder  of  the  two  writers 
of  the  letters  betrays  that  he  hae  been  leading  a  somewhat  out-of-the-way  life, 
and  has  not  been  a  great  miBcellaneous  reaader.  In  one  of  his  arguments  he 
challenges  pi'oof  that  a  monkey  can  throw  a  stone.  A  foot-note  by  his  antagonist 
contains  an  answer  to  the  challenge;  but  the  puzzle  is,  that  any  intelligent  man 
should  be  unaware  of  the  real  f;Lcts.  In  another  place  the  question  whether  all 
1>irds  aing  instiuctivoly  the  specific  note  of  their  kind  is  settled  in  a  very  offhand 
way.  We  are  positively  ana  distinctly  informed,  by  those  who  ought  to  know, 
that  though  a  skylark  or  a  thrush  (say)  will  sing  the  characteristic  song  of  ita 
kind,  however  it  be  brought  up,  a  bird  which  has  not  learnt  of  its  parents,  or  of 
other  birds,  will  sing  an  inferior,  uneducated  song,  Tbere  is  hardly  a  page  in 
which  the  form  of  the  writing,  that  of  confidential  letters,  does  not  do,  perhaps, 
0ome  injustice  to  the  matter ;  so  that  probably  the  book  wiU  grow  upon  an 
attentive  reader.  But  the  anxiety  of  the  editor,  or  of  Amadeus,  to  keep  close  to 
*•  Catholic  truth,"  »,e.,  to  a  certain  concatenation  in  **  Catholic  *'  theology,  ojoes 
far  to  spoil  his  argument  with  those  who  think  the  chain  can  be  broken.  The 
great  want,  however,  which  mo^t  jK^rsoua  vrill  feel  in  this  volume,  is  the  want 
of  novelty.  They  will  exclaim,  *'  Style  and  manner  are  fresh  ;  and  here  and  there 
is  something  that  looks  new;  but,  for  the  reat,  all  we  can  say  ia—conna." 

The  fjict  that  for  the  present  the  higher  speeuhition  has  come  to  a  paiiaep 
ift  no  doubt  a  fine  opportunity  for  ill -read  and  feeble-minded  persons  who  are 
lifraid  to  look  either  backwards  or  forwards  except  in  one  direction  each  way ;  but 
in  the  meantime  another  result  has  shown  itself.  The  many  currents  of  Doubt 
have  been  quietly  threading  their  way  into  unaccustomed  ti*acks.  There  was,  of 
course,  something  very  good  and  wholesome  in  the  Laureate's  counsel,  too  familiar 
now  to  be  quoted  at  length — 

"  Leave  thou  thy  sister,  when  she  prays. 
Her  early  heaven,  her  happy  views. 
Nor  thou  with  shadowed  hint  oonf  use 
A  life  that  leads  melodious  days*"  ^be*«  &c« 



But  still  there  was  something  odd  m  putting  this  counsel  of  cautiou  into  a  poem. 
lik«'  "  In  MeuioriarQ,'"  ui  which  one  might  then  saj  the  qumteesence  of  recent 
"Douht"  was  bottled  up  for  famUy  reading.  But  what  has  become  ?io«?  of  the 
vahie  of  this  counsel,  as  applied  to  Bclection  in  general  literature  P  The  queBtionit 
of  the  hour  have  broken  bauuds,  and  ai'e  now,  one  may  saj,  varying  the  image, 
the  common  tools  of  poets  and  noveliata.  They  are  everywhere-  The  only  safe 
preBcription  for  leaying  your  sister  when  she  prays  her  early  heaven,  her  happy 
views,  18  to  shut  her  up  iwim  literature  altogether.  Nobody  na.8  stated  the  great 
pr<d.>lrms  with  more  naked  furce  than  Mi",  Browning  in,  say,  his  last  poem  of 
"  La  Saisiaz."  True,  he  is  not  a  writer  for  ordinary  young  ladies,  especially  if 
they  get  hold  of  a  copy  like  oui-s,  in  which  there  is  a  confusing  i-epetitiou  of 
pages  ;  but  girls  talk  to  eaeh  other — the  clever  to  the  simple*  And  it  may  gafelv 
be  affirmed  that  there  is  not  one  novel  in  fifty  in  which  the  old-fashioned  lantf- 
marks  are  not  in  some  way  slighted  or  confused,  while  there  are  a  great  many  in 
which  they  are  indirectly  criticized  in  ways  which  **thy  sister'*  must  he  veiy  dull 
to  miss.  Now  is  this  state  of  things  better  or  woi*se  than  open  conflict  of  piin- 
ciplea  and  evidence  P 

It  too  often  happens  that  good  hooks  at  once  suggest  to  the  reviewer  a  kind  of 
treatment  which  though  disproportioned  to  the  canvas  at  his  disposal,  dois  not 
show  itself  to  he  wholly  so  till  he  takes  up  the  brush  and  confronts  the  easeL 
Thia  is  apt  to  be  the  case  with  works  of  the  order  to  which  Mr.  John  Morley'e 
Diderot  (Chapman  and  Hall),  and  Dr.  Francis  Hueffer'a  The  TroiihctdottrH  iChatto 
and  Windus)  pre-eminently  helnng.  That  fresh  departure  in  the  function  of  the 
man  of  letters  which  men  like  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  Diderot  may  be  laid  hold 
of  to  illusti'ate  j  the  quaint  contrast  in  the  midst  of  Bimilarity  between  auch 
books  as  Johnson *6  **  Baeaelas  ■'  and  Toltabe's  "Candido,"  both  pessioiistie,  and 
both  with  that  odd  Jumble  of  ideas  and  imprcBaious  which  went  to  pr^vdnce 
*' Paul  and  Virginia"  and  the  "Man  of  Feeling."  the  **  Indian  Cottage," 
Eousaeau,  and  Thomas  Day ;  the  cunous  relations  between  the  new  currents  of 
thought  in  England  ami  on  the  Continent;  and  many  other  related  t4>pieB,  rush 
into  one's  heatl  in  turning  over  the  pages  of  a  hook  like  Mr.  Morley  s  Diderot 
But  they  must  be  laid  a^ide,  and  a  few  sentences  of  direct  comment  must  take 
their  place.  "We  fancy  this  study  of  the  great,  or  at  all  events  the  very  large^ 
versatilet  and  good-natured  EncycloptediBt  la  t43<i  long,  and  that  when  Mr,  Morley 
collects  all  these  effective  memoirs  of  his,  he  will  find  it  useful  to  transpoee  mncn 
of  his  matter.  There  is  nothing  in  any  of  them  that  can  he  called  out  of  j>lac43  or 
irrelevant,  but  the  biogi-aphies  and  Bocial  sketches  lose,  as  such,  by  juxtapoaitton 
with  the  far-reaching  eoninieuts  in  which  Mr.  Morley,  to  the  stim illation  always, 
to  the  edification  often,  of  the  thoughtful  readert  bos  allowed  himself.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  sometimes  want  a  little  more  comment.  There  is  something 
scarcely  human  (to  Enghsh  eyes)  in  the  groping  indecency  of  Diderot,' — even  in 
pox*tions  of  Voltaire's  *'  Homme  aux  Quarant^  Ecus/* — which  we  mention  simply 
because  it  happens  to  strike  us.  Can  this  new  vein— for  new  it  really  was — be 
accounted  for.  and  put  in  a  "  human  ^*  light  ?  We  think  it  can.  But  J^Ii\  John 
Morley  cannot  ho.  exjiceted  to  do  and  say  everything.  When  he  has  completed 
this  series  of  sfudies  (which,  for  his  own  sake,  we  hope  will  be  soon),  he  will 
Lave  done  a  very  useful  piece  of  literary  work,  in  which  Lis  (evident)  aims  as  a 
propagandist  have  very  rarely  interfered  with  the  simplicity  of  his  vision,  and  the 
philosophic  breadth  and  lurgo  of  his  handling  have  left  him  free  to  interest  and 
amuse  as  well  as  instruct  his  reader. 

jjiieraiuie  in  cue  j*iiaaie  ^ges,  a  as  weii-nign  passed  oui  oi  ine  region  in  wi 
very  brief  notices  ai*e  usual ,  but  it  helungs,  like  the  hook  just  referred  to,  tc 
qpoch  of  new  departure,  and  claims— we  tkink  justly  claims — to  be  **  the  first  * 
tinuous  and  at  ml  adequate  account  in  the  English  hmguage  of  the  litei-ary  ep 

Mr,   Hueffer*8  volume  on  Tlie  Tr(i^thadom'8^  a  history  of  Provencal  Life  and 
I/iterature  hi  the  Middle  Ages,  has  well-nigh  passed  out  of  the  region  in  which 

'      ,  to  an 
,  con- 
^  -     -  -  epoch 

which  forms  its  subject.**  The  least  agret'ahle  part  of  the  volume  is  the  preface, 
in  which  the  accomplished  author  exhihits  a  little  of  the  haideur  of  the  specialist, 
in  a  sumewhat  mahulroit  way.  Nobody  worth  criticizing  (so  far  as  we  know),  who 
has  really  studied  a  dozen  hmguages,  solved  a  few  hard  cryptugrams  in  which 
different  tongues  were  the  ba«is,  and  looked  at  pix-ms  in  the  laiujue  cfof,  would 
imagine  that  he  could  '*  master  the  language  by  plunging  into  its  lileraturi-Mvithout 
any  previous  stuily  of  grammar  or  dictionary/'  or  needs  to  Ije  told  that  the  hmgu& 


iTde  10  difficult,  or  wb j*  We  hare  not  cssadBed  the  **  teebnieal  pcirHon  of  tbe 
bcN>kt  whiek  u  <^ieflf  eoaoenied  with  ]iiet*ic«i  qoestaoaa*  in  whicli  tti^  impt^rta&oe 
of  Dante  6  sdentific  Iremtue  lor  tbe  dAnficatkni  of  Fh»v«nfmi  metres  ^*  is,  to  use  Mr. 
HndSer's  word,  "prored-**  It  lias  occurred  to  us,  that  either  tk  mor&  directlj 
•*  popolar^"  or  a  more  directly  Bcientific  method  of  treatmcni,  would  hare  conciliated 
m  gnmUsr  namberof  the  ends  Mr.  Hoeffier  haa  in  Tiew;  but  in  this  we  mmj  tnm\j 

^'The  firrt  tronfcadoitr  known  to  ns,"  writ^a  Mr,  HadTer*  **  Goilldfii,  of  Poitiera,  horn 
in  1071*  Tiaea  exactly  the  same  grammar,  the  same  atrocttire  of  aentenctt^  and  eron  in  aU 
ettentlal  points  the  same  poetic  diction,  aa  hialast  soooeflKir  two  hmidred  yeaia  after  hinu 
The  cause  of  this  nnosiial  stalolitj  must  be  looked  for  in  the  fact  aiready  pointed  mA^ 
that  the  F^yencal  wm«  not*  strictly  ipnaking*  »  liTuig  language  used  by  al^  and  for  aU 
pnrpoees,  but  the  exclnaiTe  speech  of  an  exclusiTe  daes,  reserred,  moreoTer,  fbr  the 
exptcaaioii  of  courteous  lore  uid  chiralry.  Even  where,  for  the  purposes  of  satire  and 
personal  inTectiTe,  the  terms  of  low  life  are  introduced,  they  haTS  to  submit  to  the  strict 
rules  of  grammar  and  metre. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century,  laa^ut  <toc  as  the  means  of  poetic  nttecmnoe  at 
least  disappears  again,  as  suddenly  as  it  had  emerged  from  obscurity/* 

Eren  without  granting  all  thifi  to  the  rery  full,  we  may  be  quite  clear  that  there 
can  neTcr  be,  and  neTcr  ought  to  be,  a  "popular** or  "general"  interest  in  the 
literature  of  the  Troubadour  epoch ;  and  Mr.  Huefft?r  has,  to  a  rather  strained 
degree,  the  sort  of  rtnomda  tos  in  which  Dun  Quixote  addressed  Saneho  Pauia  ; 
but  even  the  **  general  reader,*'  if  be  has  a  tincture  of  me<li«eviU  learmng,  will  find 
the  book  interesting.  A  rery  good  and  full  table  of  contents  takes  the  place  of 
the  bad  sort  of  index  which  is  so  common. 

Mr,  Charles  Giblion,  well  known  as  a  norelist  with  a  **  school "  to  himself,  has 
produced  The  Life  of  George  Comber  author  of  **  The  Constitution  of  Man  ** 
{2  vols.:  MacmiUan  k  Co.)^  The  book  is  as  well  done  as  it  could  possibly  be 
by  any  one  who  was  outside  of  phrenology,  and  reflects  much  honour  on  the 
discretion,  industry,  and  conscientiousness  of  Mr.  Gibbon.  Combe  himself  was 
not  a  fomantic  figure,  nor  did  his  nnion  with  a  daughter  of  Mi's.  Siddons  iiuik<.» 
his  life  a  bit  less  prosaic ;  but  he  rubbefl  shouklei*s  with  hundreds  of  distiii 
men  and  women,  and  played  a  part  in  the  fnmt  rank  of  movements  Ciilk^^i  i 

and  progresatve  which  we  now  speak  of  with  calmness  if  not  cynicism,  but  which 
forty  years  ago  were  treated  as  matters  of  life  or  death,  and  set  friends  and  foes 
foaming  at  the  mouth  and  fiEing  the  air  with  adjurations  and  imprecations. 
8o  there  is  plenty  of  good  reading  in  these  Memoirs,  apart  from  the  plums  ;  such 

••  p,.w,v^  ^^  ^  picture  of  the  re^utlonary  party  in  England.  When  they  arrive 
(vi}  ara  naturally  irritated  hj  their  failure  and  unhappy  position.    They  come 

to  h  ttmand  money  ;  he  has  none  to  give  them.     'You  wear  a  gold  wateh,  and 

no  man  ever  knew  the  pains  of  want  who  could  afford  to  keep  a  gold  watch/  *  But  we 
work*  Come,  and  you  will  see  Madame  Fuls^y  snd  me  always  writing  for  our  bread. 
If  you  cannot  write,  you  must  work  in  some  other  line/  But  they  do  not  like  to  work 
They  say,  *  We  will  deliver  Europe.*  *  Very  well ;  deliver  Karopo,  but  do  not  refuse  to 
work  till  you  have  done  so/  '  Let  ua  form  a  committee  to  hurl  the  tyrants  from  their 
thrones.'  '  Certainly^  but  a  committee  of  penniless  men  cannot  do  this/  '  All  Europe 
is  ready  to  rise ;  our  cause  is  the  cause  of  all/  *  Well,  suppose  we  form  a  committee  r  * 
'  Every  member  must  be  sworn  on  the  dagger.'  '  Nonsense,  this  is  a  conspiracy,  t 
never  was  a  conspirator,  and  never  will  be.  Asides,  the  age  of  the  dagger  is  post.  You 
know  that  if  any  one  of  you  should  MU  another  with  the  dagger,  he  could  not  live  in 
England.  Let  us  digpense  with  oaths  and  the  dagger/  The  committee  meet,  fiwious 
speeches  are  made,  and  letters  from  the  Continent  are  read,  representing  all  things  and 
eveiybody  as  ready  for  a  rising.  Resolutions  are  prc^>osed,  seconded,  and  adopted,  to 
deliver  Europe,  and  ordered  to  be  sent  to  the  coumilttees  abroad.  Ths  committee  brea]» 
up,  and  the  one-half  of  them  goes  to  the  Austrian  and  Prussian  amhassadore,  and  to 
the  English  foreign  policej  and  at}  Us  a  report  of  the  proceedings  for  Jg5  I " 

Mr.  Combe  was  a  true  Soi»tcbman,  and  a  man  of  great  aridity  of  character.  He 
tned  to  cover  the  Baudv  tracts  of  his  nature  with  poetry  and  othe-r  genial  things, 
and  succeeded  very  well ;  but  a  thing  of  this  kind  done  on  principle,  from  a  study 
of  **  my  phrenological  organs,'*  can  never  rise  to  the  point  of  dolightsomenees. 
Such  a  story  seta  us  wondering  what  would  happen  if  we  wei-e  all  to  begin  to  try  to 


^5         ^^       iF^ 


make  oni'selves  np  according  to  pattern,  Tbe  most  valimhlc  portion  of  tlie  lxM»k 
is,  bejond  dispute,  tho  autobioLrraphical;  in  which  Mr.  Combe  presentB  hb  with  a 
pictui'e  of  Scottish  middle -class  life  at  the  time  wh<tMi  the  eighteenth  centurj  was 
verging  to  its  close — and,  taking  schixd  life,  church  Hft%  trade  life,  sanitary  ct:»n- 
ditioEUS,  and  other  nmttei*s  into  account*  the  reader  will  certainlj  pronounce  it  a 
Bickcning  picture — we  may  cali  it  partly  a  sequel  to  SmoUett's  '*  HimiphiM^y 
Clinker.  The  following  entry  from  Combe's  diaiy  (in  America)  19  too  chara<Jter- 
istic  to  be  omitted  : — 

"Satttebat,  27tfc  J\dy  (1H39);  ther,  GG"^.— The  weather  ia  still  delightful,  and  we 
apend  our  days  thus  :  Rise  at  5  a,m.  I  sponge  myself  all  over  with  Bait  water,  and  use 
tile  hair-glove  ;  dress  \  breakfast  at  7  ;  sit  oa  the  rocks  and  enjoy  God's  beautiful  world, 
Mid  worsSip  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  from  7.30  till  0,  Prepare  new  edition  of  my 
system  till  12.  Sit  on  melfs  till  1.  Dine  at  1.  Sit  on  rocks  from  2  till  3-  Kead  De 
Tocqueville  and  Reviews  till  5.  Sit  on  rocks  till  6.  Tea  i  sit  cm  rocks  till  7,16  ;  read  tiU 
9.  Go  to  bed,  and  sleep  a  most  delicious,  sound,  dreamless  sleep,  and  awaken  refreshed 
and  happy  next  mominyf.  1  do  not  walk,  li^ecause  I  cannot  from  lameness  (caused  by 
moequitoes).     If  it  were  not  for  the  mosquitoes,  this  would  be  a  pamdiae  of  a  place." 

Of  coui'ae  a  **  philosopher  *'  who  could  write  like  this  deserved  tht?  name  of  old 
Jokeum  {**  GJeo*  Combe  *')  in  ways  whicb  his  friends  did  not  contemplate  when  they 
thus  played  u|xin  his  signature. 

Combe  practised  with  great  success  wbat  may  jierbaps  be  described  as  the 
sen'oM^*- evasive  treatment  of  so-called  Christian  tests.  He  did  not  equivocate,  in 
the  Hume- Gibbon  style,  putting  a  sting  into  the  tail  of  every  other  sentence ;  but 
would  &ay»  for  example,  that  if  Christianity  meant  the  desire  to  obey  tlie  laws  of 
God,  and  tlie  love  of  man,  he  was  an  earnest  Christian.  He  earned  for  himself 
the  hearty  contempt  of  Miss  Martineau,  and  many  other  sincere  persons  in  all 
camps  of  thouglit ;  but  he  appears  to  have  been  fitlly  at  ease  in  himself  ab>nt  his 
own  policy.  Of  course  he  was  not  even  a  Theist,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word; 
but  he  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of  sincere  benevolence,  fine  purpose,  gi'^at  sagacity 
in  social  and  political  matters,  and,  in  privaU.%  capable  of  degrees  and  kinds  of 
self-control,  patience,  f  «rbearance,  and  kmdness,  "wdiich  too  many  of  us  can  only 
admire  and  imitate  at  humble  distance.  We  must  caU  him  both  good  and  wise, 
aiid  write  him  as  **  one  that  loved  his  fellow*men.'* 

Wlu:!ther  George  Combe  did  any  got^d  to  phrenology  may  be  doubted  by  its  best 
friendB,  It  is  now  imder  the  cloud  which  Spui'xlieim  foretold.  Men  of  science 
inni  from  it»  though  the  best  of  them  admit  the  services  rendered  by  Gall,  and 
speak  with  great  caution  of  the  rest.  The  "intelligent"  man  of  society  thinks 
**  there  may  r>e  sometliing  in  it,  you  know ;  but  you  must  not  push  it  too  far." 
Of  course  it  must  suifer  from  those  who  ti-ade  upon  it^the  idea  of  any  man's 
milking  a  living  by  telling  bis  fellow- creatures  theii'  true  character  is  a  mauvai^e 

filitieanfmc.  Outside  of  professional  phi*enology,  the  mere  cranioscopy  suffers 
rom  many  caueee,  Foi'  instance,  nobody  can  judge  of  beads  (or  of  faces)  witliout 
long  practice  and  much  study,  and  a  few  errors  go  a  long  way  to  discredit  a  tbing 
which  most  i>etjplK  aie  anxit>us  to  disbelieve.  There  is  an  absurd  notion  that  thei^ 
is  **  fatalism  *'  or  **  meclianii>m  *'  in  pbrenolorn-.  From  this  objection  even  its  w*nrat 
enemies,  if  moderately  acute,  shotdd  hold  it  rianalees,  since  there  is  no  hypothesia 
of  life^  no  theodicy,  no  anthropology,  wkieh  has,  or  can  possibly  have,  any  other  tale 
to  tell  us  than  that  the  freedom  of  the  will  is  conditioned  and  limited,  howeyer 
vaguely,  bv  inherited  eharact,er. 

Mr.  Gibbon  has  committed  surpritsingly  few  errors,  considering  tbe  very  tech- 
nical  nature  of  some  portions  of  his  labours.  There  is  one  droll  CAereight,  The 
editor  gives  us  what  purjiortB  to  be  Dr.  Channing's  "development.''  but  the 
examination  of  the  organs  leaves  out  the  whole  of  tlie  intellectual  region.  We 
may  add  that  Coml>e  was  a  very  poor  crauioscopist— -it  was  too  absiird  to  pnt  down 
Dr.  Croly'a  Causality  as  large.     If  it  was,  so  much  the  worse  for  phrenology. 

Tliere  Laa  been  a  great  deal  of  translation  g«.>ing  on  lately,  especially  ti-anelation 
of  Goethe,  Here  are  the  PocTnSf  translated  in  the  original  metres,  by  Paul 
Dyrsen  (Asher  &  Co.).  The  volume  is  so  well-know^i  in  the  original,  and  for  the 
most  part  so  dear  to  cultivated  lovers  of  poetry,  that  one  ikmkI  not  specify  the  con- 
tents. What  wi"  did  was  to  read  the  Introduction,  in  which  the  translator,  who  is 
both  modest  and  conscient ioua,  expounds  his  metrical  the<3iy^ ;  and  then  to  read  a 


good  m&DT  of  tise  poems.  Enttrin^  at  random,  yre  take  the  famous  little 
weteiien  \iaUad,  "  1&  war  ein  Komg  in  Thale,"  and  find  that  Mr.  I>yrBen  renders 
it  for  ns  in  this  f aahion : — 

*'  A  king  in  Ultima  Thule 
Was  faithful  to  his  graTe ; 
Bis  43rtii^  aweetbeari  truly 
A  gokten  ei^  hisi  gare. 

**  Once  more  the  old  carouser 
With  loTe  of  wine  was  stung  j 
The  cup,  hia  sacxed  rouser. 
Into  the  aea  he  flung. 

'*  He  watched  the  faUing^  drinldzig 
And  sinking  golden  cnp  ; 
His  ejes  were  clostnir,  sinking ; 
Drank  neror  another  drop." 

We  mi^hi,  alas  and  alas!  close  the  book  here,  bnt  critics  are  aware  that 
tranalator  may  fail  horribly  in  one  poem  and  succeed  beantifullT  in  another,  so  we 
try  "  The  God  and  the  Bayadere.  This  is  a  erueially  difficult  poem ;  but  what 
hare  those  who  know  it  by  rote  done  that  they  shoold  haye  this  flung  in  their 

"  Listen  to  onr  solemn  preaching : 

Not  your  husboiid  was  this  dead ! 
Bayaderes,  that  is  our  teaching. 

Most  not  ci&Te  the  flaming  bed. 
Shadows  cast  ail  Uring  bodies. 

And  with  them  the  shadows  die ; 
Swch  dejjre  in  trivet  not  odd  is. 

But  no  oihert  ahouid  appUf. 
Blow  trumpet  and  hdp  ns  in  our  hunentatian ! 
Ye  gods,  we  hemeek  you,  ikit  }fOuih  of  our  nation 

Ih  iMk^me  ui^tamei  !  for  we  hid  him  good4^ye,'* 

W#  hare  examined  the  volnme  from  end  to  end,  and  though  thei'e  is  here  and 
th«re  a  hit,  particularly  in  the  "  Rhymed  Sayings,"  whert  tJ^  author  has  avoicedlf 
aUmeed  himgelf  more  hherfy,  the  general  r^ult  is  failore  t  melancholy,  hopeless, 
horrible  caricature.  In  determining  neyer  to  giTe  a  single  rhyme  where  Goethe 
gave  a  doable  one,  and  so  un  and  on,  Mr.  Djnrsen  set  himself  a  prefNOdterous  task. 
His  want  of  success  is  not  at  all  surpnaing;  bnt  his  courage  is.  So  much 
laborions  intelligence  and  skill  might  well  find  more  feasible  work,  and  we  hope 
win  do  so. 

Doubtless,  there  was  hardly  ever  a  time  in  the  history  of  books,  when  thei"^  ' 
were  not  memoirs  of  men  and  women  of  lettei« ;  but  the  number  of  such  memoirs 
published  just  now  may  be  taken  as  one  sign  of  an  era  of  transition.     It  may 
also  be  «aia«  and  truly,  as  a  sng^tion,  that  the  pnbHc  of  literary  amateurs  who 
consult  such  books,  partly  as  guides  to  ambition,  is  greatly  on  the  increase.    One 
of  the  pleasanteet,  ajid,  in  some  particulars,  one  of  the  best  of  the  volnmea  before  i 
OS.  is  the  large  octavo  of  350  pages,  which  contain  the  Memoirs  of  the  Lifi  o/AMumi 
Jameson,  Author  of  "  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art,"  «fcc.,  by  her  niece,  Geraldind  | 
Macpherson ;  with  a   poi*trait  (Longmans,   Gre^i,  &   Co  J,  Mrs.  Jameson  waa,  [ 
of  course,  not  a  great  writer,  bat  she  had  a  touch  of  genius ;  her  books  are  still  { 
worth  reading,  and  her  life  was  worth  relating.    There  is  some  caprice  shown  by  i 
critics  in  dealing  with  minor  biographies^some  of  them  ha\*ing  a  theory  which 
leads  them  to  pooh-pooh  the  lives  of  all  but  the  few  men  and  women  who  can  bo  | 
definitely  labelled  as  gi-eat.     But,  to  recall  a  commonplace,  almost  anybody's  life,  J 
pfoperly  told,  is  worth  reading,  and  certainly  Mrs.  Jameson's  is.     The  singular 
story  of  her  husband's  relations  with  her  (Atr.  Jameson  was  clearly  of  unsound  I 
mind) ;  her  heroic  struggles  in  money  matters ;  the  side-lights  which  the  narrative  I 
casts  upon  Lady  Byron  s  **  implacability" — these  and  other  matters  count  for  some^  j 
thin^,  and  the  pathetic  account  of  Mrs.  Macpherson  for  not  less.    A  postscript 
by  Mrs.  Oliphant  half  suggests  that  any  profits  which  may  arise  from  tne  sale  oC  J 



tlie  book  will  be  set  aside  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Macpbersoa's  cbildren— at  all 
events*  we  liope  tluey  will.  The  memoir  is  wi*itten  with  perfect  good  taste,  both 
moral  and  literai-y  ;  and  though  it  is  not  a  strong  book,  it  has  much  interest  for 
the  stiident  in  literatiu'e  and  psychology,  and  ia  good  reading  for  anybody.  The 
portrait,  by  Mrs.  Jaine8on*8  father,  represents  the  Lady  when  she  was  only  sixteen, 
years  old. 

K'othing  in  the  recent  aflpecta  of  literature  more  distinctly  reminds  ns  of  the 
changes  it  has  undergone  than  two  reprints  before  ue,  which  are  of  some  conse- 
quence. The  fii-st  is  an  edition  in  one  volume  of  the  memoir  of  John  Wilson, 
entitled  Christopher  Noiih,  which  was  fii  st  published  in  two  volumes  in  18ti2,  being 
*'  compiled  from  Family  Papers  and  other  sources  liy  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Grordon*' 
(T.  C.  Jack,  Edinburgh :  and  Hamilton,  Adams,  k  Co.,  London).  Even  in  1862, 
these  painstaking  and  indeeti  efficient  and  entertaining  memorials  of  a  very  remark- 
able man  fell  a  little  coldly  upon  the  general  public,  and  now — to  the  new  genera- 
tion—*'* Christopher  North  "  ia  little  more  than  an  echo.  That  he  is  not  read  more  is 
very  easily  accounted  for  :  he  was  a  splendid  improviser  (let  the  word  pass),  whose 
prose  poetry  was  heavily  alloyed  with  mere  rhetoric  and  commonplace,  and  who — 
except  in  verse,,  where  he  was  usually  tame  though  sometimes  exquisite — ^coiild  not 
prevent  his  animal  spirits  from  running  to  something  like  bounce.  Besides  this,  he 
never  quite  succeeded  in  leaving  upon  the  reader's  mind  the  impression  of  thoronph 
conscientiousness.  He  certainly  had  no  business  in  the  Chair  of  Moral  Philosophy 
at  Edinburgh,  when  Sir  William  Hamilton  wtis  ready  to  fill  it ;  and  generally  wo 
may  say  that  he  waet<jd  in  eft'orts  of  combativen«*ss  and  camaraderie  fully  half  his 
power,  both  intellectual  and  moral.  In  spite  of  the  mere  hnUz  of  what  he  has  left, 
we  fear  the  hard  truth  of  the  matter  is  that,  comparing  what  he  did  with  his 
splendid  and  in  some  respects  unique  genius,  John  Wilson  was  at  least  as  much  a 
failure  as  De  Quincey  or  Colendge — though,  in  ti-uth,  we  have  mi  particular  fancy 
fr»r  the  sort  of  criticism  which  would  use  the  wordfnilure  at  all  in  sj>eakingof  men 
of  that  rank  and  quality.  Not  the  least  unhappy  part  of  the  case  is  to  be  found  in 
Wilson^s  relation  with  the  odious  Lockhai-t^jou  cannot  manage  to  get  the  polecat 
odour  out  of  your  nostrils,  Mrs.  Gordon  is  a  very  candid  as  well  as  intelligent 
biogi*ttpher,  and  though  she  piints  a  good  deal  that  might  with  great  advantage 
have  he<.m  omitted,  the  volume  is  exceedingly  well  worth  getting  and  keeping. 
The  caricature  illustrations  are  very  characterLstic.  We  miss  '*  Crambamhiuee, ' 
but  are  not  sure  whether  **  The  Goulden  Vanitee/*  words  and  music,  was  in  the 
1862  edition  or  not.     It  is  a  tiist-rate  song* 

The  other  volume  to  which  we  alluded  above  is  Selected  Ess<rtjs,  by  A.  Hay- 
ward ,  Esq.^  Q.C.  {2  vols.:  Lt»ngnians,  Green  &.  Co.U  These  make  together  about 
one  thousand  pages,  clearly  printedj  and  most  of  the  in  eminently  readable.  Mr. 
Hay  ward,  having  been  more  than  once  asked  tt>  reprint  the  whole  of  his  essays 
(first,  second,  and  third  series),  hiis  preferred  to  give  ue  a  selection,  including  such 
t4>pic8  as  "The  Pearls  and  Mock  Pearls  of  History,"  **The  British  Parliament," 
"vicissitudes  of  Families/'  **  Rogers/'  **  Sydney  Smith/*  "Frederic  von  Gentz,'* 
** The  Countess  Haim-Hakn/'  '*Wliist  and  Whist  Players/'  For  the  pui*poBCSof  the 
intelligent  diner-out,  the  popular  lecturer,  and  the  Journjxlist  in  want  of  amusing 
commonplaces,  all  the  essays  are  worth  reprinting ;  but  on  general  gi^ounds  wc 
ciin  see  no  value  in  some  of  them,  such  as  '*  Alexandre  Dumas,*'  '*  Henri  Beyle,*' 
and  the  review  of  M.  Taine's  ''  Notes  on  England.'*  In  these  and  some  others, 
there  is  little  to  disagree  with,  but  nothing  worth  remembering  except  what  is 
pretty  well  known  to  reading  men.  It  is  the  **  clubbable'*  good-society  air  of  the 
whcile  which  makes  the  book  attractive ;  and  the  fact  that,  as  the  man  said  of  the 
dictionary,  "  it  goes  from  one  subject  to  another  a  good  deal."  Of  crjuree  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  has  higher  qualities  than  aie  displayed  here, — or  else,  indeed,  lie  could  not  have 
written  the  essays  aa  they  stand;  but  we  cannot  wholly  forgive  him  foi'  a  few 
touches  of  something  troo  mnch  like  cynicism. 

Wo  had  noted  a  lew  small  matters  for  comment  or  quotation,  bnt  must  omit 
many.  Did  Bnffon  (voL  i.  p.  84)  writ^  the  **  famous  dogma/'  '*  Le  style  c'est 
Fhomme  /'  or  were  his  words  these,  **  Le  style  c*est  di*  Thomme  m^me,"  or  something 
like  them  P  On  page  'Ml  of  the  same  volume,  Mr.  Hayward's  sense  of  hnmour  has 
failed  him.  Havmg  mentioned  that  Madame  Hahn-Hahn  sent  him  a  work  in  MS. 
**  npon  the  nuderstanding  that  he  was  to  engage  a  translator  and  a  pnblislier/'  he 
proceeds  to  inform  the  general  reader  that  '*  the  manuscript  never  retiched  tUl  two 


Wluit  wOl  an  Bii/enligii&iivd  iKMleril|^  iDmk«  of  tki»  imlevaai  charge  agvnai  m 
GoT«nim«nt  depaitznenl  wkiek  ham  quite  aii«  enoo^  ta  bcsr? 

Hic  lottmt  title  we  hxrt  seen  for  mjot j  a  da j  is  prefixed  to  a  tctt  agi«cdble, 
eluitty  TO&me  of  350  pagwv  called  BeeoQedwu  of  WrUen^  hr  ubarles  and 
Marj  Gbwden  Clarke  tStnqMHi  Jjom  &  ColV  The  reminiseeiiees,  which  go  aa  ^ 
1mA  as  old  John  B jland,  are  hj  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clarke,  the  f onner  beui^ 
dead;  and  the  Tolnme  contams^Jeaaant  goaaip  about  Lamb,  KeatB,  Coleridee, 
'   '  '   Hunt,  Gi>iwm.  Hazlitt.  I^creadj,  Mr.  Oarljle,  Doagl^  Jenold,  Chailea 

Bidkens,  and,  incidentallj,  a  hodt  of  othera.  The  best  mrt  of  the  book  is  tliat 
wbidi  relates  to  lamb ;  and  it  contains  eome  new  and  delightfcd  aneedotes  of 
liim  and  bis  mnch  underrated  sister.  Becanse  Lamb  lored  goud  companj,  and 
••  ebed  tears  in  the  motley  Strani  for  feeling  of  joj  at  so  much  life,**  it  has  been 
Tcry  idJj  snppoeed  that  he  did  not  love  the  coimtrr— though  how  anj  human 
being  could  read  bim  and  carrr  awaj  that  idea  in  his  heaa  is  more  than  siir« 
prising.  These  reminiscences  do  not  set  themsdres  to  correct  this  impressiotB ; 
but  thej  do  it  by  casual  touches.  If  Lamb  were  now  living  he  would  not  be  so 
fond  of  *'  the  motley  Strand,"  where  the  crowd  is  so  thick  that  you  can  hardly 
Bpeak  without  rubbmg  somebodVs  nose,  and  there  is  death  in  the  air  fn^m  the 
exhalations  of  living  human  bodies  packed  as  thick  as  sardines.  But  in  these 
days  it  was  a  different  world.  Tincent  Novello,  living  in  Oxford  Street,  could  at 
an  honr*s  warning  picnic  with  Hunt  in  the  fields  that  stretched  from  there  to 
Hampatead.  Very  charming  is  the  sketch  of  Lamb.  Mary  Lamb,  and  Miss 
SJdly  wandering  about  the  fields  at  Enfield,  and  sitting  on  a  felled  tree  before 
a  small  inn,  eaeu  with  half-a-pint  of  porter  in  the  pewter.  And  in  spite  of  eome 
wcfok  and  trivial  pa^es,  readers  who  know  how  to  read  will  find  this  one  of  the 
pleaeantest  books  of  the  season.  The  least  pleasing  part  of  it  is  what  relates  to 
I)ickens ;  but  the  way  to  got  the  fun  out  of  sc>mc  jokes  of  bis  which  appear  dull 
and  vacuous  is  to  hare  his  own  works  well  in  mind.  For  example,  the  Angmitua 
Egg  joke  is  ca^a/  on  one  of  the  ways  of  the  Cbeeryble  Brothers,  The  ninth 
cl^pter  we  advise  evcnr  one  to  skip.  We  had  nearly  forgotten  George  Dyer,  **  the 
abeentee,"  who  walked  into  the  New  River  in  bitwid  daylight ;  but  he  reappears 
in  Mn  Clarke's  r^ninisoenoes^  and  in  a  new  light.  To  have  sucb  a  '*  figure  '  well 
set  down  in  your  mind  is  worth  a  gold  ingot. — worth  many  gold  Ingots, — for  wbo 
can  appraise  the  delicious  inward  chuckle  that  soothes  the  houi'  of  pain  or  pcril^ — 
and  who  can  help  such  a  chuckle  that  suddenfy  recalls  the  penniless,  one-eyed, 
dingy,  anuffj,  golden -hearted  old  scholar,  who  said  ahd — ahd—<thd  three  or  four 
times  in  a  sentence,  and  usually  wound  up  with  **  WeQ,  sir,  but  howerer ' '  ? 

Cast  in  the  same  mould  as  Dyer,  but  with  more  fire  kneaded  into  the  clay,  fma 

Lord  Collingwood — clamtn  ei  venerabile  nomen  .* — none  deainer,  none  nobler  in  all 

bistory ;  and  English  to  the  last  shiver  of  his  timbers  and  the  last  reef  of  bis 

■  iin'Is^  In  what  he  calls  *'  A  Biographical  Study."  Mr.  William  Davies,  author  of 

Ijjthe  Pilgrimage  of  the  Tiber/'  &e.,  has  taken  Collingwood  as  a  type  of  A  Fine 

rOU  Jhf7t4^  GeniletJtan  (Sampson  Low  &  Co.) ;  but  he  should  have  given  more 

^I^WyJ'tod  less  sermon.     Still,  merely  as  biography,  the  book  is  worth  readinc  by 

t&O0e  wbo  have  not  learned  enough  of  Lord  Collingwood  to  love  him  and  yet  look 

np  to  his  goodness  with  &:»mething  like  awe.     We  presume  Mr,  Da  vies  wrote  SfmgK 

i^a  WayfiirtT  (Longmans,  Green,  k  Co.,  18^39)  }    He  does  not  mention  them,  but 

be  need  not  be  asbamed  of  them.    His  Lord  CoUtngtvood  is,  we  griere  to  siv,  very 

Btiif  reading.    Mr.  Davies  knows  the  old  nigger  joke:  ** Oh,  massa!  if  nocgee, 

flog^ee :  if  preaichee,  preachce ;  but  no  preachee  and  floggee  too.'*    Now,  only  to 

TOM  of  Collingwood  is  "  floggee,"  very  severe  floggee,  to  ordiiyiry  flesh  imd  bkJod ; 

and  tben,  just  as  the  recovered  heart  begins  to  l«t  again  and  the  tears  to  come, 

it  is  too  bad  to  have  Mr.  Davies's  "  preachee,  preachee,'*  though  the  sermon  is 

good.     We  really  must  quote,  for  the  benefit  of  mere  prt'cisians  who  miss  the  core 

but  it 
was  true 
insight  in' this :  and'humour  also. 

Leigh  Hunt  wrote  that  he  was  a/raid  "The  Lidicator'*  was  the  best  of  his 
irorks— io  hard  was  it  for  a  man  who  had  passed  his  life  in  the  hope  of  being 



ranked  as  a  poet,  to  take  much  deHglit  iu  hia  pit^se.  We  da  not  know  if 
**  Skii'lev  "—a  name  luoro  fauiiliar  in  the  daja  of  jouug  Jolin  Parker  tlijin  it  i« 
now — will  care  to  hear  that  we  lire  afraid  hia  poetry  Ends  iia  better  than  his  proae 
(because  we  have  in  England  moved  very  rapidly,  especially  in  theological  matters, 
during  the  last  twelve  veara) ;  hut  lie  is  hard  to  please  who  cannot  be  pleased 
with  much  that  lies  within  the  four  comei's  of  Essays  in  M<>mance  and  Studies 
from  Life,  hj  John  Skelton.  author  of  the  **  Impeachment  of  Mai*j  Stmwt/'  and 
other  works  {W.  BLickwood  &  Sous).  The  papers  headed  "A  PassagL'  in  tlio 
Ministry  of  Stephen  Holdfast  '*  would  well  have  borne  publication  in  a  scpai^te 

The  crop  of  even  good  essayists  has  never  been  a  larse  one,  perhaps  not  larger 
than  that  of  the  poets  or  the  preachers  who  can  be  called  "  respectable/*  and  the 
essayists  of  distinctly  original  Havoui*  are  a  small  class  indeed.  The  Counirif  Parson, 
whose  i?ecrea/to;t*,  T5iird  Series  (Longmans,  Green,  &  Co.)  makes  a  welcome  addi* 
tion  to  the  stock  of  winter  reading,  has  this  advantage,  that  he  has  always  adhered 
to  topics  uf  comDJon  human  interest,  and  treated  them  frankly  and  easily,  without 
putting  tCH>  great  a  sti'aiu  upon  the  mind  of  the  most  casual  reader.  Some  of  these 
papei-s— for  example,  Dean  Stanley,  Charles  Kingeley,  and  Korman  Macleod — 
should  (we  think)  have  been  left  out  or  strengthejied ;  at  preetfut  they  are  mere 
reviews,  with  a  slight  tinctm-c  of  the  personal  and  biographical.  But  if  a  committee 
of  three  or  four  of  the  author's  friends  could  be  set  down  after  a  pleusant  dinner 
with  orders  to  select  the  best  of  his  essays,  the  result  ought  to  l>e  a  volume  ot  about 
three  hundred  and  fifty  pages  of  writing  which  every  oue  might  cherish.  Thn 
orities  have  done  this  ingenious  writer  much  harm.  Some  years  ago  there 
was  a  dead-set  made  at  him  by  a  few  writers  of  the  insolent -brilliant  school ;  eveiy 
hack  on  the  press  ttiok  up  the  cry,  and  he  has  certainly  lost  some  of  the  fmnk 
naturalness  of  egotism  which  was  a  great  part,  and  a  veiy  piTjper  and  blameless 
part,  of  the  charm  of  his  writing.  Charming  and  really  good  some  of  hia  essays 
are,  let  insolent -brilliant  sloggers  say  what  they  wQl,  and  if  the  re^t,  who  follow 
each  other  like  sheep,  would  leiim  from  him,  instead  of  relating  the  cuckoo  cry  of 
critics  who  have  lost  all  taste  for  food  that  does  not  tickle  and  sting,  they  would 
do  themselves  good  first,  and  be  a  iittle  more  credit  to  what  we  presume  they 
would  call  tbeii*  **  profession," 

"  They  also  sei've  who  only  stand  and  wait "  is  the  pathetic  motto  of  two 
volumes  entitled  Salf  Hours  of  Blind  Man's  History  :  or.  Summer  and  Winter 
SJc^tches  in  Black  and  mute,  by  W,  W,  Fenn  (Sampson  Low  &  Co.).  Mr.  Fenn 
is  by  profession  a  painter  who  at  past  tliirty  was  stricken  with  blindness,  and, 
with  true  eoumge  and  siKiplicity  of  heart,  set  himself  to  make  the  best  of  his 
trouble  by  using  his  pen  instead  of  his  brush.  The  sketches  containc^l  in  these 
two  volumes  are  always  readable  and  som^etimes  more  than  that,  but  we  should 
think  Mr.  W.  W.  Fenn  could  do  better — for  his  readers,  at  all  events — by  for- 
saking the  beaten  tracks  of  magazine- writers  altogether,  ajid  making  some  of  his 
own.  Could  he  not  give  us  still  more,  very  much  more  than  he  has  here  given  tis, 
of  the  special  '*  experiences  "of  a  cultivated  man  in  fitting  himself  to  his  new  and 
painful  position — souie  kind  of  autobiography  of  blindness,  in  fact  ?  Or  could  he 
not  give  us  much  more  than  he  has  here  done  of  artist-life,  the  life  of  the  studio  ? 
Lastly,  could  he  not  write  a  serits  of  landscape  and  other  pictures  in  pen  and  ink 
^-we  mean  descriptive  papers  which  should,  as  far  as  pos-sible,  conform  tt*  the 
laws  of  the  brush  ?  This  suggestion  is  made  at  random,  and  of  course  we  do  not 
at  all  hint  that  he  should  attempt  the  impoasible,  or,  by  anj-  trickery,  blur  or  con- 
fuse the  everlasting  lines  of  discrimination  between  an  ai'ticiilate  art  and  an  inar- 
ticulate one.  But,  as  a  painter,  he  must  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  nature  and  of 
life,  and  perluips  have  had  practice  in  conjuring  up  ** scenes"  from  history  or 
fiction,  ami  it  tfiight  be  possilde  for  hiui  to  work  the  notion  we  venture  to  throw 
out  in  this  rough  shape.  We  put  this  hint  doubtfully,  because  we  have  nc*  mea- 
sure of  Mr.  Fenn's  insight  into  the  respective  laws  and  fimetions  of  the  pen  and 
the  pencil  i  but  we  feel  much  more  confidence  in  saying  that  a  detailed  account 
of  the  triuisition  stage  of  his  history  would  be  deeply  interesting. 

The  I'eeent  celebration  at  Manchester,  with  something  like  splendour  and  much 
noble  feeling,  of  the  golden  wedding  of  the  Rev.  William  Gaskell  with  his  congre- 
gation, was  not  a  litenu-y  event,  but  of  coui'se  it  made  everylxKly  twho  knew  of 


tfceiAlSaabctwiMailh«i>thialcof  Kitwilei  tW smct Myi^kl^  wlio  vm  trnkm] 
§gom  him  ami^  tram  vmmthejKwmei  h§r  pgwiaa  and  m  Ifca  lidiie  el  oaw  o<  Iwr  j 
liesi  sUwieB,  if  not  Iwr  best,  a  lev  years  agou    It  is  no  Mwe  cubIwutt  i 
tittl^crlfwvMiR«p»mbfe.   *Tb«eit  none  like  fcer,Miie,*'wr  will  be  ti 

a  good  iBsay  of  ''•■r  WMTMOTi  k«f«  dpefied"  Sbe  Imj,  If  we  mij  puali  i 
fur,  closer  la  thm  hoamkeM  koutt  of  our  Iwgi  fiofcaon  tbui  mj  mc 
[Yerjmo&mi  sllogsllicr  beradf ;  and  aa little  liiieliii«d  witli  ihe 


rof  tfaetiBiieaiMddwtdlbe.  We  canno*  read  ILra.  Oliphaau  ex«y>jleiit 
•a  aba  m»  wisfaoot  manj  a  ^aa^ ;— abe  does  not  write  hafipy,  or  baniT* 
gbooka.  B«vi&  wben  ber  writui^  is  in  tbe  moBtb  sweet,  it  is  too  oft^^n  iA% 
below  tbe  diapibngm.  Tbis  ts  a  pi^,  for  die  baa  more  tban  a  toueli  of 
giBias  hnsmfcr,  abe  works  too  baid,  and  ber  hand  bas  now  fixed  babits ;  al9i\ 
tm  tiM»  wbole.  die  is  almost  abore  mere  casual  enticiam.  The  autbar  of  the  ''  Sad 
Foctmeaof  tbe  Ber.  Amos  Barton'*  might  hsTe  kept  as  near  the  booaobold  hesutt 
aa  IffSw  Gaalcell,  if  sbe  bad  aarriTed;  but  ber  plaee  waa  bmg  ago  taken  by^l 
tbe  aatbor  of  "  Bomobw"  and  **  Daniel  Deroada,''  Kr.  Haidx«  if  he  bui  ' 
n  woman,  might  have  done  it  in  some  respecta;  but  **  Crantod^*  be 
oodld  have  written.  What  leons  have  we  passed  through  ainoe  poor,  simpla 
*'  Bath "  laisod  storms  in  tea-eupe,  and  men  like  Kingslej  wmte  to  com- 
fort the  anthor  and  assure  her  that  the  gx:>od  and  wise  were  with  ber!  But 
we  are  still  in  doubt  whether  society  wofld  not  eren  now  prefer  the  coaraa 
iqmivo^we  which  is  so  common  in  fiction  to  the  straightforw^ird  liandling  of 
certain  topics  bj  Mr&  Gaakell  in  "  Ruth.**  Tbe  onlj-  serious  mistake  we  can 
recall  of  hers  was  the  one  she  made  in  the  Memoirs  of  Charlotte  Bi\inte — an 
undcmbted  blunder,  both  in  art  and  in  true  good  manners:  and  the  first  e«iition 
had  to  be  cancelled,  some  sort  of  apologj  beinff  made  (as  we  think  we  remember) 
hj  the  pubEBheTB.  The  great  charm  or  Mr&.  Gaakell  laj  in  the  hum  an- hearted 
BingleneBS  of  eje  with  whicb  she  told  a  atorj— she  made  no  spMLK^uhliil^e  digres- 
sions, indulged  in  no  innuendoes,  did  not  trj  to  be  clever  or  litei-arj,  but  went 
itraight  on  with  homely  pathos  or  homel j  humoui\  Though  her  style  is  even 
already  getting  a  IMle  antiquated,  fashions  chauge  in  that  matter*  ana  simplicity 
like  hers  will  wim  The  world  will  eome  back  to  her  when  it  has  tired  of  writers  more 
subtle,  more  brilliant,  and  more  profound.  Ijeaving  aside  the  earlier  writings  of 
George  Eliot  up  to  and  including,  say  **  Silas  Mamer,"  we  can  already  count  the 
pages  of  George  Eliot  which  will  in  fifty  years  be  as  nearly  obsolete  as  **  St.  Leon ;  ** 
but  that  fate  is  not  in  store  for  **  Oranford'*  or  "  Wives  and  Daughters.'* 

There  seems  to  be  some  sort  of  "  law  "  in  the  puVjHshin^  trade  that  novels  shall 
in  large  numbers  be  issued  in  the  stunmer-tinke, — for  the  holiday  seasc^n.  But 
even  in  seaside  quiet  (if  there  is  such  a  thing)  people  out  on  hoUday  do  not  read  j 
as  much  as  might  be  supposed ;  and  the  real  tmth«  we  suspect,  is,  that  ladies  and 
idle  people  wait  till  the  long  evenings  to  make  downright  love  to  the  novels  tbej 
have  dallied  with  on  joumev  or  otherwise  in  the  hot  weather.  At  all  events,  wa  \ 
have  a  heavy  batch  of  novels, 

Mr.  Hardy,  one  of  the  stix^n^estof  our  novelists,  if  not  the  strongest,  and  a  man 
between  whom  and  Air*  Browning  there  are  some  afciities,  has  not  wholly  escaped 

the  temptation  to  be  "  speculative »**  though  it  is  only  the  smell  o£  fii*e  which  nas  ' 
passed  upon  htm.     Perhaps  it  is  rather  that  he  makes  his  readers  speculative  tban 
that  there  is  speculation    in  his  novels*      He  is  an  ejcti-uordimirv  writer ;  one 
of  that  rare  class  whose  faults  cannot  be  spared  from  their  work.     Where  else  are  i 
we  to  look  for  anything  like  the  same  amount  of  rugged  and  fantastic  iH>wer ;  the  I 
same  naturalness  minglcMl  with  the  same  quaintness  ?    Lift  out,  by  way  of  experi*  i 
ment«  what  is  pleasingly  wrung  in  the  work,  and  then  see  how  you  will  bo  balHed  ' 
in  any  attempt  to  supply  its  place.     In  The  Retttni  of  th^  NoHve  (3  vols.  :  Suntb, 
Elder,  A  Co),  he  stiU  keeps  close  to  what  we  may  with  strict  propriety  call  his 
native  heather — and  very  powerful  indeed  is  his  sketch  of  Eguon  Heath.      His 
Wessex  rustics  are  framed  on  the  old  inconsiBtent  but  striking  mtxlel,  and  who  hut 
himself  could  have  drawn  Christian  Cantle — the  flabby  clown  whom  nobody  would 
marry,  and  who  was  supposed  to  be  **no  man,"  t»eeau8e  he  had  been  bom  on  a 
night  when  thei*e  waa  '*no  moon  ?'*    We  are  afraid  we  discern  some  tendency  to 
repetition  of  types  in  the  leading  characters,  and  are  not  sui^  that  this  story  is 
equal  to  *'Far  trom  the  Madding  Crowd  "  (of  which  the  spell  is  yet  strong  upon  1 
us) ;  but  it  is  in  truth  not  easy  to  criticize  Mr.  Hardy,  until  after  you  have  a  little  I 



gpofc  orer  the  weird  effect  of  hia  tricic  of  cx>iifroiiting  Nature  in  her  lonelj  ^eatnesB 
or  lonely  sweetnesa  with  men  and  women  Bordid  and  stunted,  blundering  and 
it^orant,  and  jet  laveiibltj  or  ;tt  wnrst  likeable.  It  is  utterly  imposBible  to  say, 
after  a  first  or  second  reading,  wbicli  impresses  yon  moat,  the  story  and  the 
**  chai*acter,"  or  the  pictureB  of  Nature,  and  though  you  feol  that  there  is  some- 
thing wi'ong  somewhere  about  the  work,  jouai^e  subdued  even  though  you  struggle. 
It  ifl  not  easy  to  feel  that  the  marriod  life  of  Eustaeia  Vye  and  Clem<?nt  Yeobnght 
ia  natural,  or  was  (we  were  almost  about  to  say)  possible ;  but  yon  rise  from  a  tale 
which  ia  all  but  absui'd  ia  itself, — three  tragic  deaths^  two  maniages,  and  then  a 
cheerfid  ending,— to  wish  the  anthrtr  a  \^.n\^  career  and  i^iat^e  t3  amend  his  en-ors 
:ind  break  himself  of  mannerisms  which  his  enemies^  and  not  his  enemies  only, 
will  asam'edly  call  afEectationa,  To  end,  with  some  repetition— 27ie  RHnm  of  tJie 
Native  is  fall  of  faidts,  full  of  x:)ower,  and  altogether  of  unique  quality  in  its 
descriptions  o!  Nature,  A  striking,  and  at  finjt  almost  bewildering,  effect' is  pro- 
duced by  the  author's  trick  of  first  painting  a  scene  with  the  broadest  colours, 
and  then  bringing  in  his  human  figures  as  if  they  were  an  after- thought, 

"  To  niy  Father  and  Mother  I  dedicate  my  Fii'st  Book.'*  This  is  the  inscnption 
of  a  decidedly  noticeable  three-volume  novel,  entitled,  For  Percival,  by  Mai'garet 
Teley  (3  vols,:  Smith,  Elder  &  Co,),  It  is  a  common  thing  with  young  writers  to 
crowd  tkeii'  early  attempts  with  incident,  conversation,  and  refiection ;  and  For 
Perci  L'a Ha  very  ei*owded  indeed — perhaps  it  would  have  been  butter  if  half  the 
matter  had  been  omitted,  and  Biived  tor  another  time,  Percival  Thome  is  a 
young  man  with  whom  Sissy  Langton  falls  very  much  in  love,  and  the  time  comes 
when  they  are  engaged  to  each  other.  But  an  untruth  told  by  Sissy  for  his  sake — 
on  a  question  of  inhentance— bas  graver  consequenccB  than  it  was  in  her  mind  to 
dream  of.  They  part,  and  Sissy  <lies  (though  not  of  a  brtjken  heart),  leaving  her 
money  to  Percival,  who  ultimately  maiTies  another  girl,  and  ia  happier  with  her 
than  he  could  possibly  have  been  with  Sissy,  who  never  could  have  understood, 
among  other  things,  hia  love  of  truth.  There  is  in  the  story  itself  aud  in  the 
telling  so  much  "good  intention."  and  sommdi  success  in  the  detail,  that  one  feels 
sure  at  once  of  meeting  the  author  again,  and  of  finding  then  that  she  has 
gained  in  aelf-controJ,  and  ia  the  power  of  distinguishing  the  new  from  the  old, 
as  well  as  in  mere  skill.  But  it  may  be  said  briefly  for  the  present  that  For 
Fercivnl  is  a  very  good  novel,  wanting  neither  in  pathos  nor  in  humour ;  and 
that  the  author  keeps  a  high  standard  before  her  from  first  to  last. 

Aug  lis  Grayy  by  the  author  of  ''ScarBcliffe  Rocks,''  *'  Annie,  an  Excellent  Person,*' 
&.C.  (3  vols.  :  Smith,  Elder,  Sc  Co.)  is  written  with,  we  were  going  to  say,  a  care- 
ful avoidance  of  liveliness;  and  cet*tfiinly  the  modem  touch-and-go  manner  is 
nowhere  present ;  a  strict  governess  of  the  old  school  mi^ht  have  written  moat  of 
the  sentences ;  and  the  substructure  of  moral  teaching  is,  perhaps,  a  little  too 
apparent.  But  the  whole  tone  is  healthy,  iiiid  there  is  some  agreeable  description 
of  seaside  scenery.  It  is  a  story  of  a  girl  whom  her  father  h;^  planned  to  bring 
up  in  "unconventional  **  semi-seclusion,  and  as  far  away  from  the  usual  risks  of 
falling  in  love  as  poaaible.  Of  course,  Nelly  does  fall  in  love,  and  marries,  and  her 
father  learns  a  lesson.  There  m  really  something  like  a  plot  in  Angtts  Gray,  and 
it  may  safely  be  claased  among  gt>od  novels. 

Auld  Lmig  Sytw^  by  the  author  of  the  "Wreck  of  the  Groavenor"  (2  vols.: 
Sampson  Luw  Si  Co.),  may  have  things  in  it  worth  reading;  but  we  have  not  been 
able  to  tackle  it.     Tbe  vex*y  first  sentence  runs  thus  :— 

"  In  the  embrace  of  a  curvature  of  this  noble  island  of  Britain,  where  tlit»  coast 
bt»held  by  the  paesiag  mariacr  shines  before  his  eyes  with  the  pearly  gloss  and  delicate 
sbiminer  of  marlde  ;  where  the  land  shoots  out  into  the  aeaj  seomiag,  with  its  iron  lieel 
stttunchly  planted,  the  tliundertuis  shocks  of  the  hurricane  or  the  more  deadly  tooth  of 
ih&  lipping  calm,  and  l>«irin^  on  high  at  night  it«  fi&ming  beacon  like  the  fabled  giant 
defying  the  stars  with  uplifted  torch  ;  stands  a  iovm  whereon  no  mim  with  a  mind  into 
which  soft  thoughts  may  enter  rendily  cam  gaze  without  stopping  to  r*,«flcct/* 

Out  of  breath  with  this  long  pnll,  we  took  a  hasty  dip  a  few  pages  farther  on, 
and  this  is  what  we  came  upon : — 

"In  the  moonlight  a  lonely  woman's  face  takes  a  sad  and  moving  beauty. 

''^No  blush  glows  through  the  pearl  of  the  light  upon  it. 

"  Lips  which  are  r^  as  the  tob&  in  the  uun  are  piirle  in  this  light,  which  denies  pMsion 
to  them. 

eo.vTBarasjjrr  zjjtsast  cmfomcissi 



il  is 


tint  'Semmfm 

if^idi  is  tlie  SMlcf  t^vit:  a&d 



•  OnM.  bj  Mazt  Ftmek^  xmxhor  iil  -*  Ibzjom  Braced 

f§ar  W!^  iMSiuiiMiiii  s^on  ^lI»om  Braces  1 

tBroiwske  is  &  bankers  4 


ikifed;  sadi 






1  sb»  at  tvi^  miton*  «B6 

is  as  tlua  aihd  imitatiw  as  tiMt  of 


<T-«ij  pkfAse  miglit  be  iddced  ami  of  bslf -^-doMtt 



tiis  iintcluqg,  ami  vs 

n^fcaicticeol  ^y«'*g  new  bDoks  sit«i'  some  oatdnvtwd  or  titlecit  a  wvll.knd/wsi 
DBgoc  siocj  is  beeo«iujiig  ioA  fra|Qent — tihongk  d  oooivo  Ikis  is  oalj  a  nuiJllsr  of 
sste  fiv  eadi  paitiealsr  BOf^lisI  to  consider.  B^mmf  Lmkf  ims  tlis  ttaBS  ol 
M  leading  cfaanct^  in  cue  of  Mr.  Bbhck's  books,  bttt  it  will  stand  aoui#  w«ar,  aa  il 
is  Tmj  prett  J  in  itaelL  apart  iromt  Bums  or  others.  Tliis  OBe>voliinM>  aftv^  hf 
Mis.  Aah&t  Martin  <Grifitli  and  Fkrnui>  will  not  discr^it  tJbo  namew  It  is  on 
tlie  whole  a  tsij  lieaHbj  hxkt  and  bas  iutorest,  fix^ling,  and  nvacitT-  enowb  tn> 
Bake  it  bigblj  readable.  In  a  w\>rd,  it  is  a  book  to  be  reconun^tdo^  T^tfQ  SMIcva 
ol  n  cieivyman  are  l^ft  orpbans,  witb<Hit  muck  means,  and  bsT^e  to  figbt  tks&  e^vm 
wmj  in  tSe  world ;  and  tkej  do  it  bonound^lj  and  ^raeefnUj.  Bonnj  Lidij  la  n 
kandsome,  Tigov^os,  lirely,  indeed  almost  «aitejr  Irak  bloade,  and  sbe  goes  o«i  «s 
n  kdr-kelp.  Tke  ^*  son  of  tke  bonsebold,"^  a  rieb  jonng  Adonis,  wants  ^  mmj 
ker.  bat  Au  oomoMmpkhoe  is  escaped — tbougb  anotker  Mkywa,  to  wind  np  witk. 
Boni^  Leslej  mairies  a  kalf *blind  man  of  lett^a,  old  cnoiwb  to  bo  ktr  mtbsr. 
fOiis  IS  tke  onlj  drawback  on  tke  healtblness  of  tke  book.  ^Of  coarse  tkere  is  no 
loreaob  of  *'  morals**  oommitted  wben  a  r^mj  fine  jonn^  woman  mames  a  widower 
wbo  can  ficarcelj  see  at  all,  and  ^ho  is  twice  ber  age :  of  course  people  must  do  as 
tbej  like  in  snck  cases;  but  wben  we  redect  that  hj  tke  time  one  of  suck  n  couple 
is  m  tke  full  bloom  of  mature  Uf<?  tbe  otker  will  ksTe  reocbetl  tke  ^tiuid 
clbnsfiterie,  and  wben  we  remember  all  tbst  we  see  and  bear  of  sxxch  mwrm^^ 
we  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  is  not  wise  to  present  one  of  them  as  an  ideal  in  a 
book  for  young  ladies. 

Much  pleasanter  resdin^^  to  our  mind  than  anj  of  tbe  second  and  third* rale 
norels  is  this  little  book  of  travels,  onlj  two  Tv>lumcs  :  Guddin^s  wUh  a  PrimiH99 
Peoo2e,  being  a  Series  oi  Sketches  of  Alpine  Life  and  Customs,  by  W»  A.  BaHlsd 
Grohman,  author  of  **  Tyrol  and  the  Tyixilese,"  Jbc.  (i  vols. :  Remington^  OoX 
Mr.  Grohman's  *'TyTt>l  and  the  Trrolese"  was  mueh  liked,  and  anybody  who  will 
remember  that  the  writer  is  a  foreigner,  and  sometimes  a  little  coarse,  may  uot 
only  pass  a  happy  hoiur  or  two  over  these  **  Gaddincs***  but  will  carry  away  mueh 
information  and  plenty  to  think  alx'mt.  The  hook  ofMma  ws*^^  ♦^''  '^fory  of  a 
*'  Paradise  play**  for  Christmas-eve  in  TyroL  Tbe  Acootmt  will  si  pe*>iile  : 

«p  it  may  be  as  well  to  say  that  th*^  iva^lor  must  be  well  prepar-  h.**  liV.^ 


"  A  sirth  attg^  cornea  runnin;^  :  1 
He  has  finished  the  Crestiou,  and 

.  siu^iog— *  PmiBed  be  UlxI  tlio  Fiahor, 
ith)'ou  pwsc^ttlly/  ** 

Messrs.  Reminj^m  &  Co.  hare  published  lAtculhu,  or  PalatahU  E*Hijf$^  in 
wbieb  are  merged  "  The  Oyster/'  **  The  Lobster,'*  and  "  Sport  and  its  Fleaaurtss," 
by  the  author  of  "  The  Queen^s  Messenger,'*  **  The  Brie  h  Brae  Huntet-  '*  [2  vol«,). 
Is  it  not  possible  that  a  man  should  have  a  bad  bout  of  indigeation»  or  even 
febrieula,  u  the  weather  were  bad,  after  reading  such  a  book  as  this  ?    It  is  Qt^y  to 



Bee  why  goumiand  writing  ie  nearly  alwave  reavlable.  It  is  sure  to  be  full  of 
anecdote,  and  festiy^j  eiiggestione  ai-e  inevitable,  with  hints  of  whatever  is  elegant, 
glittering,  and  jiiquant  in  a  well-appointed  dinner — such  as  white  naperj,  bnglit 
g!a^8,  brighter  wine,  glowing  odorous  flowei*Sj  and  lovely  little  bowers  of  fern.  Of 
birds  joii  cannot  well  write  what  shall  not  be  nice,  even  when  it  is  a  question  of 
eating  them  :  the  same  of  doer  and  fish — you  think,  as  yon  read,  not  of  the  func- 
tion of  the  cook,  but  of  the  bold  free  sport  in  the  open  air.  The  word  trout 
means  laaao  Walton:  venison  means  **  As  you  Like  it;**  grause,  waves  of  purple* 
pink  heather ;  and  wild-duck  a  pimt  on  a  lake,  Tbere  is  a  wide  difference  between 
the  pool's  enjoyment  of  "  the  pleasures  of  the  tal>le  "  at  a  distance,  and  that  of  a 
Brillat  Savarin  ;  and  many  of  the  singers  who  have  written  most  gaily  about  wine, 
or  have  at  least  sung  as  if  the  gi^ape  was  always  in  their  heads,  have  been  water- 
drinkers.  The  author  of  *'  Lucnllufi**  is  an  amusing  "  knave/'  and  his  "  Palatable 
Essays  "  are  rij^'htly  named — for  readers  with  palates,  espeeially  for  those  who 
habitually  feast  **  with  the  blameless  Ethiopians, "  or  some  other  people  as  little 
known  **  in  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air,"  where  perhaps  tnt;  **  neat- hand 
Phyllis  "  wears  more  wing  than  ecjstume,  and  the  whole  thing  is  a  pic<nic  spread 
on  asphodel. 

In  Poganue  People :  TJieir  Loves  and  Lives  (Sampson  Low  A  Co.l,  Mrs.  Beecher 
Stowe  gives  us  a  eharming  picture  of  the  life,  sixty  years  ago,  of  a  little 
mountain  town  in  Connecticut,  which,  we  suppose,  may  stand  as  a  type  of  New 
England  villages  and  townlets  in  the  days  on  which  she  seems  to  look  back 
with  some  regret,  "  when  its  people  were  of  our  o"wn  blood  and  race,  and  the 
pauper  population  of  Europe  had  not  as  yet  been  landed  upon  our  shores  ** — apictui*e 
adm unable  for  finish  of  drawhig  and  a  kind  of  delicate,  sober  harmony  in  the 
colouring.  One  might  say  of  it  that  not  a  t^>uch  is  wanting,  and  that  it  has  not 
one  in  excess.  The  subject,  too,  is  eminently  happy — far  enough  away  from  Ufl  ^ 
to  have  the  attraction  of  novelty,  and  yet  near  enough  for  its  details  to  be 
thoroughly  intelligible.  With  much  ekilfiilneea  of  touch,  and  no  little  hmnour, 
does  ^&E.  Stowe  set  before  us  the  various  strata  of  Pogamic  society,  the  stately 
and  dignified  families,  with  traditions  of  ancestral  importance,  some  of  whom,  it 
IB  oupposed,  would  have  been  better  pleased  if  the  Revolutionary  War  had  had  a 

different  issue,  and  the  sturdy  demoei*acy,  few  of  whom  would  accept  domestic 
aeiTice  on  any  terms,  and  whenever  they  did  always  stipulated  that  tnei 
anee  should  not  be  summoned  by  a  Ixill,  and  that  they  shi>nld 

aeiTice  on  any  terms,  and  whenever  they  did  always  stipulated  that  their  attend- 

„ mmoned  by  a  Ixill,  and  that  they  should  have  free  right  of 

enti-ance  into  the  hou^pe  by  the  front  door.  Then  we  have  a  graphic  account  of 
the  rivalry  between  the  Congi-ecationalism,  or  Presbyterianism,  as  it  was  called, 
which  had  only  a  few  years  earlier  ceased  to  lie  the  established  religion  of  the 
State,  and  the  Epiacopalianism,  which  in  New  England,  in  the  early  days,  Jlrs. 
Stowe  says,  **  was  emphatically  a  r*-x>t  out  of  dry  git^und;"  of  th*^  celebration  of 
the  Fourth  of  July,  when  the  Beclai'ation  of  Independence  would  be  i-ead  by  the 
stately  old  Colonel  Davenport,  who  had  been  a  confidential  friend  of  Washington, 
clad  in  the  very  uniform  m  which  he  had  held  an  important  command  during  the 
war;  and  of  the  rehgious  "  revival,''  brought  about  by  the  zeal  of  Parson  Gushing, 
in  which  even  the  hard  heart  of  the  croBS-grained  old  pagan  Zeph  Higgina 
becomes  at  last  softened;  and  last,  not  least,  some  exquisitely -worded  dcscriptiona 
of  the  on-eoming  of  the  tardy  New  England  spring,  and  the  glory  and  beauty  of  ] 
the  brief  New  England  summer.  The  nrineipid  personages,  too,  who  people  the  | 
book,  are  lifelike  and  striking,  and  worthy  of  their  setting.  Little  Dolly  Gushing, 
with  her  childish  high  spirits  and  love  of  fun,  and  her  st>lemn  and  ^Ireamy 
enthusiasms,  is  a  most  winning  ehild-lieroine ;  and  her  father.  Dr.  Gushing,  the 
muiister.  a  man  of  leai^ning,  who  can  delight  hie  congregation  byc|Uottng  Clement 
of  Alexandria  against  the  obsen^ance  of  Christmas,  in  the  original  Greek, — and  j 
delight  them  all  the  moi-e  because  hardly  a  man  among  them  has  any  idea  who  j 
Clement  was, — and  is  at  the  same  time  a  shrewd,  practical  farmer,  who  has  him- 
self in  hie  time  been  a  farmer's  boy,  is  an  cxceUcnt  tjpe  of  the  Puritan  divine, 
the  rigour  of  whose  Calvinistic  theology  is  softened  by  a  strong  vein  of  natural 
humour,  and  a  healthy  love  of  out- door  life.  Nor  must  Hiel  Jones  and  Nabby 
Higgius  be  omitted,  as  Bne  specimens  of  the  genuine  Yankee  lad  and  lass.  '*  Poganue 
People/*  in  short,  is  a  book  that  on  every  ground  merits  nnmixcd  pi-aise.  and  we 
can  only  hope  that  its  gifted  author  will  now  let  her  admirei*s  bear  from  her 
somewhat  more  frequently  than  we  believe  has  been  the  case  of  late  years. 


II.— A  State  Parcel  Po> 

A  T  a  season  of  the  year  when  many  persons  are  anxious  about 
Jl\.  their  Christmas  hampers  and  their  New  Year's  gifts,  it  is  appro- 
priate to  consider  whether  our  social  arrangements  for  the  conveyance 
of  suchHke  small  goods  are  as  well  devised  as  they  might  be.  We  all 
now  feel  how  much  we  owe  to  Sir  Rowland  Hill  fur  that  daily  pile  of 
letters  which  brightens  the  breakfast  table  more  than  does  the  silver 
uni,  and  sweetens  it  more  than  the  untaxed  sugar  basin.  In  these 
kinds  of  matters  great  effects  follow  from  small  causes,  and  a  few 
pence  more  to  pay,  a  few  yards  further  to  walk,  or  a  few  hours  longer 
to  wait,  constantly  decide  whether  or  not  it  is  worth  while  to  send 
this  little  present,  to  order  that  little  comfort,  or  exchange  this  parcel 
of  library  boolis.  The  amenities  of  life  depend  greatly  upon  the 
receipt  of  a  due  succession  of  little  things,  each  appearing  at  tlie 
right  moment.  Wealth  itself  is  but  matter  in  its  right  place — happily 
disposed  in  quality  and  time  and  space.  Hence  it  is  possible  that 
among  the  most  insidious  Methods  of  Social  Keform  might  be  found  a 
well-organized  State  Parcel  J*06t.  That  at  least  is  the  impression 
which  leads  me  now  to  investigate  the  subject. 

It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  in  a  sense  we  already  possess  a  State 
Parcel  Post,  because  the  Post  OlKce  authorities  place  no  restriction 
upon  what  may  be  enclosed  hi  a  letter,  provided  that  it  be  not 
injurious  to  other  letters  or  dangerous  in  nature.  An  inland  letter  is 
limited  to  18  inches  in  length,  \^  inches  in  width,  and  G  inches  in  depth, 
and  this  space  may  be  packed  with  cast-iron  or  platinum  if  you  like, 
and  yet  transmitted  by  post,  so  far  as  the  regulations  in  the  British 
Postal  Guide  show.  But  except  for  verj-  small  liiiht  thing.^.  few 
people  use  the  privilege,  because  the  letter  rate  for  large  letters  is  Irf. 



per  oz.,  which  makes  1.?.  id.  per  lb.,  a  prohibitory  charge  upon  articles 
of  any  considerable  weight.  If  I  recollect  aright,  it  was  allowable 
some  years  since  to  forward  parcels  at  the  book  rate  of  postage,  which 
is  only  4d.  per  lb.,  but  trouble  arose  between  the  Post  Office  and  the 
railway  companies,  so  that  this  comparatively  moderate  charge  is  now 
rigidly  restricted  to  literary  matter. 

A  number  of  writers  have  from  time  to  time  pointed  out  the  very 
great  advantages  which  would  arise  from  a  general,  well-aiTanged, 
and  cheap  parcel  post.  It  is  stated  on  the  best  authority,*  that  such 
a  post  formed  part  of  the  scheme  which  Sir  Rowland  Hill  submitted 
to  the  public,  and  Mr.  Lewins,  in  his  interesting  account  of  "  Her 
Majesty's  Mails  "  (p.  247),  points  out  what  an  unspeakable  boon  this 
suggestion  of  the  father  of  the  penny  post  would  be  when  properly 
carried  out.  I  regret  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  any 
expKcit  statement  of  such  a  scheme  in  the  original  pamphlets  of  Sir 
Rowland  Hill,  which  are  among  the  most  cheiished  contents  of  my 
library.  The  proposal  must,  then,  be  given  in  other  documents  which 
I  have  not  seen. 

In  subsequent  years  the  Society  of  Arts  took  up  the  idea,  and 
appointed  a  committee,  which  in  1858  published  an  elaborate  and 
oareful  report  upon  the  subject.  They  recommended  that  parcels 
^should  be  conveyed  by  the  Post  Office  at  a  moderate  unifonn  tarifif 
of  charges,  irrespective  of  distance.  That  scheme,  we  are  told, 
was  carefully  considered  by  the  postal  authorities,  and  in  still  later 
years,  as  we  may  infer  from  Mr.  E.  J.  Page's  Evidence  before 
the  Railway  Commission  of  1865,  the  Post  Office  has  entertained  the 

Again,  that  veteran  social  reformer,  Mr.  Edwin  Cliadwick,  advocated 
a  Parcel  Post  Delivery,  in  connection  with  railway  reform,  and  a  cheap 
telegrapliic  post.  His  paper  was  read  at  the  Belfast  meeting  of  the 
Social  Science  Association,  and  is  printed  in  the  Journal  of  the  Society 
of  Arts  for  October,  1867  (vol.  xv.,  p.  720).  The  subject  was  ini- 
fortunately  confused  with  the,  to  my  mind,  visionary  proposal  to 
purchase  the  whole  railways  of  the  kingdom,  and,  naturally  enough, 
nothing  practical  has  resulted  from  the  discussions  in  that  direction. 
My  own  study  of  the  subject  commenced  about  the  same  year,  when 
I  prepared  for  the  Manchester  Statistical  Society  a  paper  t  "  On  the 
Analogy  between  tlie  Post  Office,  Telegraphs,  and  other  systems  of 
conveyance  of  the  United  Kingdom,  as  regards  Government  control." 
After  investigating  in  a  somewhat  general  manner  the  conditions 
imder  which  industrial  functions  can  be  properly  undertaken  by  the 
State,  I  came  strongly  to  the  conclusion  that  a  Parcel  Post  is  most 
suitable  for  State  management.  But  this  part  of  the  paper  was,  at 
the  suggestion  of  the  Society,  very  much  abbreviated  before  being 

•  Royiil  Commission  on  Ruilwaya,  1SG5.     Minutes  of  Evidence,  Question  15010. 
t  Transactions,  1807,  p.  S'J. 

A  statu:  parcel  post.  211 

printed,  so  as  to  allow  the  arguments  in  favour  of  a  Government  tele- 
graph system  to  be  more  fully  developed. 

In  1867,  the  Royal  Commission  on  Railways  published  their  report^ 
in  which  they  strongly  advocate  the  establishment  of  a  Parcel 
Post.  They  remarked  (p.  Ixiii.)  that  railway  companies  are  not  boimd 
to  carry  parcels,  nor  is  there  in  the  railway  Acts  of  Pai'liament  any 
tariff  for  parcels,  limiting  the  charges  for  collection  and  delivery.  The 
pubhc  is,  therefore,  at  their  mercy.  They  consider  that  a  separate 
tariff  should  be  laid  down  and  published  to  govern  the  conveyance  as 
distinguished  from  the  collection  and  deUvery  of  parcels,  so  as  to 
enable  the  rates  of  charge  to  be  kept  down  by  the  free  action  of 
individuals  acting  as  carriers  by  railway.     Then  they  add : — 

'*  It  is,  however,  apparent  that  the  parcel  service,  fio  far  as  interchange  is 
concerned,  can  never  be  efficiently  performed  for  the  public  until  railway  com- 
panies co-operate  through  the  Clearing-house  to  improve  their  arrangements 
for  parcel  traffic.  Lo<iking  at  the  extent  to  which  the  railway  system  has 
now  reached,  we  consider  that  the  time  has  arrived  when  railway  companies 
should  combine  to  devise  some  rapid  and  efficient  system  for  the  delivery  of 
parcels.  We  do  not  feel  called  uj)on  to  suggest  the  precise  manner  in  which 
this  may  be  carried  into  effect ;  but  the  emiiloyment  of  a  uniform  system  of* 
adhesive  labels  f«>r  parcels,  somewhat  simihir  to  that  now  in  use  on  some  of 
the  northern  lines  for  the  conveyance  of  newspajjers,  is  one  of  the  most  obvious 
methods  for  facilitating  payment  and  accomiting. 

''If  the  railway  companies  do  not  combine  volunturil}'  it  may  be  necessary 
at  some  future  time  fi»r  Parliament  to  interfere  to  make  the  obligation  to  carry 
parcels  compulsory,  at  a  rate  to  be  prescribed  by  law." 

Sir  Rowland  Hill,  who  was  a  member  of  this  commission,  prepared 
a  separate  report,  in  which  he  advocated  the  carrying  out  of  his 
original  idea,  saying  (p.  cxvii.)  : — 

"  It  api^ears  highly  desirable  tliat,  as  fat^t  as  railways  become  national  pro- 
perty, provision  should  be  made  in  the  leases  for  giving  effect  to  these  views ; 
and  in  the  meantime,  fully  believing  that  the  plan  would  prove  beneficial  to 
railway  interests  as  well  as  to  the  public,  it  is  hoped  that  arrangements  for  the 
purpose  may  be  made  (as  suggested  by  Mr.  Edward  Page)  for  attaining  the 
same  end  with  the  concurrence  of  existing  c<  >mpanies."* 

It  would  be  hardly  possible  to  over-estimate  the  advantages  which 

*  The  only  responee,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  which  has  been  made  by  the  railway  oom- 
panies  to  the  kind  advice  and  somewhat  feeble  overtures  of  the  Commissioners,  has  been 
a  recent  general  incretise  of  the  already  oppressive  railway  rates  for  parcels.  In 
yovember,  1877,  the  imposition  of  this  arbitrary  tax  created  some  indignation  among 
tradesmen  who  were  most  likely  to  feel  its  immediate  effects,  and  the  Birmingham 
Chamber  of '  Commerce  convened  a  kind  of  representative  indig^nation  meeting.  Bnt  I 
am  not  aware  that  their  expostulations  have  had  any  effect,  and  I  fear  that  even  tiie 
Four  Hundred,  with  Mr.  Chamberlain  at  their  head,  cannot  shake  a  Board  of  Directors, 
with  the  Acts  of  Parliament  in  their  favour.  Tlius,  while  the  railway  companies  neyer 
cease  to  assail  us  with  protests  against  the  Riilway  Passenger  Duty,  which  at  the 
worst  is  five  per  cent,  of  the  ^fross  revenue,  t^ey  cooUy  add  to  their  duty  upon  all  the 
small  traflBc  of  the  country*,  which  duty  may  be  variously  estimated  at  from  100  to  300, 
400,  or  500  per  cent,  upon  the  fair  cost  of  conveyance.  It  is  only  the  supineness  of  the 
public  which  could  allow  so  gross  an  anomaly  to  exist.  Much  as  we  may  admire 
the  general  efficieucy  and  usefulness  of  the  English  railway  system,  taking  it  as  a 
whole,  it   seems  difBcxilt  to  understand  how  sensible  practical  men  lie  the  directors 

P  2 


would  be  derived  by  the  community  from  an  all-extensive,  well- 
organized,  and  moderately  cheap  parcel  post.  People  may  say  that  it. 
is  already  possible  to  send  a  hamper  or  parcel  from  any  one  place  to 
any  other  place  in  the  kingdom  for  charges  which,  all  things  con- 
sideredy  are  not  very  heavy.  But  this  is  not  enough  ;  the  cost,  after 
all,  is  only  one  element  of  the  question  in  cases  of  this  kind.  Trouble,^ 
worry,  uncertainty,  risk,  are  influences  which  always  affect  traffic  in  a 
degree  insufficiently  estimated.  The  Post  Office  authorities  find  that 
every  new  receptacle  for  letters  which  they  set  up  increases  corre- 
spondence by  a  certain  amount ;  the  trouble  of  going  a  hundred  yards^ 
to  post  his  letter  stops  many  a  letter-writer.  So  there  are  endless 
numbers  of  parcels  which  we  should  send  and  receive,  if  we  knew  that 
for  a  small  calculable  charge  we  could  deposit  them  in  a  neighbouring 
shop,  or  hand  them  over  to  a  cart  passing  daily  at  a  fixed  hour,  with  a. 
feeling  of  certainty  that  such  parcels  would  be  dropped  at  the  right 
doors  in  any  part  of  the  kingdom,  almost  with  the  celerity  of  the  Post 
Office.  The  parcel  traffic  which  might  ultimately  be  created  is  such 
as  one  can  only  faintly  conceive  at  present.  Profound  and  always 
beneficial  changes  would  be  gradually  produced  in  our  social  system. 
The  Parcel  Post  would  be  discovered  to  be  truly  a  Method  of  Social 
Reform.  Let  us  try  to  form  some  idea  of  the  advantages  to  be  ex- 
pected from  it. 

In  the  first  place,  dealers  and  shopkeepers  in  evciy  part  of  the 
kingdom  would  obtain  their  suppUes  of  goods  from  the  wholesale 
houses  cheaply  and  promptly.  Ordered  by  letter,  goods  might  be 
returned  within  forty-eight  hours;  by  telegraph  the  order  miglit. 
be  executed,  if  necessary,  in  twenty-four  hours.  Thus  the  stock  in 
hand  might  be  kept  down  to  the  lowest  point,  and  the  largest  profit 
might  be  earned  upon  the  least  investment  of  capital,  with  the  least 
hiconvenience  to  the  consumer.  In  the  second  place,  a  vast  increase 
would  take  place  in  the  goods  distributed  directly  to  consumers  in 
all  parts  of  the  conntry  by  large  retail  or  even  wholesale  houses.. 
Already  it  is  quite  common  to  obtain  tea  by  parcel  from  some  well- 
known  large  tea-dealer,  calicoes  and  linens  from  a  large  draper,  seeds 
and  garden  requisites  from  the  London,  Edinburgh,  or  Reading 
seedsmen;  small-wares  here,  ironmon^eiy  there,  biscuits  and  cakes 
somewhere  else.  To  cultivate  their  distant  customers,  these  large 
houses  often  promise  to  send  the  parcel  cai^inage  paid,  but  they  care- 
fully specify  "  to  any  railway  station  in  the  United  Kingdom.''  They 
are  too  well  acquainted  with  the  cost  and  uncertainties  of  deliveiy 
to  take  that  burden  on  themselves.  And  as  regards  the  railway- 
charges,  they  seldom  pay  the  extortionate  tariff  given  further  on,  but,  if 
in  a  large  enough  way,  have  a  special  contract  with  some  railway. 

can  expect  to  have  ovory  vesti«j:o  of  State  taxation  upon  them  roinitt<'d,  while  thoy  are  to 
retain  almost  unlimited  ])OWfr  to  tax  us — the  peoph? — at  tlieir  disc'iTti<»n.  If  the  niihvay 
duty  is  to  be  remitted  at  all,  it  must  necessarily  be  in  the  nr.iinier  of  a  qui'l  pro  quo,  m 
port  compensation,  for  instance,  for  the  acquisition  of  the  right  of  parcel  conveyance. 


For  this  mode  of  retail  trade  there  is  an  immense  future,  only  re- 
tarded by  the  want  of  the  parcel  post.  By  degrees  all  the  more 
ordinary  household  supplies  might  be  obtained  in  parcels  direct  from 
the  ports  or  places  of  production.  In  many  branches  of  trade  the 
expenses  of  the  middleman  might  be  saved  almost  entirely.  Weekly 
or  even  daily  parcels  of  butter,  bread,  cakes,  Devonshire  cream,  and 
all  kinds  of  delicacies  might  be  looked  for.  The  rich  would  especially 
profit,  as  they  usually  manage  to  do.  The  ^aneries,  hot-houses,  and 
gardens  of  their  country  houses  would  be  brought,  as  it  were,  close 
to  their  town  houses.  Already  the  railway  traiBc  managers  have  dis- 
played their  usual  cleverness  by  offering  specially  low  terms  for  parcels 
of  vegetables,  game,  &c.,  thus  regularly  transmitted  to  a  rich  man's 
house.  Even  a  daily  bottle  of  milk,  hermetically  sealed  according  to 
the  new  American  indention,  and  thus  perfectly  preserved  from  fever 
germs,  might  be  sent  from  the  country  to  the  town  house  at  a  cost 
•distinctly  below  the  prices  of  Belgravian  dairies. 

Literature  would  benefit  immensely.  The  most  remote  country 
house  might  be  as  well  supplied  with  Mudie's  books  as  are  the 
members  of  the  London  Book  Society,  or  the  dwellers  near  a  Smith's 
bookstall.  The  utility  of  lending  Ubraries,  such  as  the  London 
Librarj',  the  London  Institution,  the  several  music  lending-Ubraries, 
4&,c.,  would  be  developed  to  the  utmost.  Magazines,  weekly  papers, 
provincial  papers,  would  more  or  less  experience  an  increase  of  circu- 
lation ;  although  it  is  true  that  the  means  of  distribution  by  railway 
or  post  are  in  many  cases  highly  perfected  already. 

Then,  again,  there  is  an  immense  variety  of  now  unconsidered  trifles 
which  would  assume  a  new  importance  when  we  had  but  to  wish,  as 
it  were,  and  the  parcel  was  come  or  gone.  The  new  toy  for  some 
child,  the  bundle  of  old  clothes  for  a  poor  distant  dependent,  the 
basket  of  game  for  the  hospital,  the  wedding  present,  the  Christmas 
hamper,  the  New  Year's  gift, — these  would  be  multipUed  almost  like 
"Christmas  cards,  to  the  great  increase  of  trade,  and  the  constaiit 
•delectation  of  the  receivers.  The  circulation  and  utilization  of  things 
in  general  would  be  quickened. 

It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  there  is  at  present  no  lack  of  carriers 
^nd  parcel  companies ;  and  this  is  quite  true  in  a  sense.  If  anything 
there  are  too  many,  and  the  result  is  that  they  can  only  be  supported 
by  high  and  repeated  charges.  Let  us  consider  what  are  the  existing 
means  for  the  conveyance  and  distribution  of  small  goods.  In  the 
first  place,  almost  all  the  railway  companies  receive  parcels  at  their 
stations,  which  they  convey  either  by  passenger  or  goods  trains  to 
any  other  of  their  stations.  In  the  great  towns  each  company  has  its 
own  service  of  delivery  vans  wliich,  within  certain  limits  of  distance, 
-deUver  the  parcels  free  of  further  charge.  When  the  consignee  lives 
'beyond  a  certain  distance,  the  parcel  is  often  handed  over  to  some  local 
-carrier,  who  makes  a  new  charge  for  deKvery,  at  his  own  discretion ; 


or  else  the  railway  company  send  their  van  on  a  special  journey,. 
and  charge  an  extravagant  price  for  the  favour  conferred,  not  extra- 
vagant perhaps  in  regard  to  the  cost  incurred  in  sending  a  cart  with  a 
single  small  parcel,  but  extravagant  in  proportion  to  the  service  per- 
formed. The  railway  companies  also  have  arrangements  for  the 
exchange  of  parcel  tmffic  at  through  rates,  and  an  infinite  number  of 
small  debits  and  credits  thus  arise,  which  have  to  be  Uquidated 
through  the  clearing-house.  So  oppressive  did  these  innumei-able 
minute  accounts  become,  that  the  companies  adopted  a  few  years  ago- 
a  summary  mode  of  dividing  any  receipts  at  a  station  which  do  not 
amount  to  ha.  in  a  month. 

Secondly,  there  exists  a  considerable  number  of  parcel  conveyance 
companies  which  organize  systems  of  distribution  on  a  more  or  lesa 
extensive  scale.  As  examples  of  these  may  be  mentioned  the  Globe 
Parcel  Express,  Crouch's  Universal  Parcel  Conveyance,  Mann's 
Parcel  Despatch,  Sutton  and  Co.  These  companies  are  in  some 
degree  analogous  to  the  excellent  American  Express  Companies- 
Some  of  them  undertake  to  convey  parcels  to  almost  any  spot  on  the 
habitable  globe ;  but  they  must  depend  upon  local  conveyances  for 
performing  th6  contract.  In  the  United  Kingdom  they  of  course 
make  use  of  the  railways  for  conveyance  over  long  distances.  At  one 
time  the  railway  companies,  if  I  recollect  aright,  waged  a  war  of 
extermination  against  them,  claiming  a  right  to  charge  each  parcel 
sent  by  a  parcel  express  at  the  parcel  rates,  although  they  might  be 
packed  in  bulk.  But  the  courts  of  law  did  not  uphold  this  extravagant 
demand  of  the  railways,  and  the  express  companies  seem  to  carry  on 
a  flourishing  business. 

In  the  third  place  there  is  a  number  of  local  parcel  delivery  com- 
panies, each  of  which  owns  many  vans  and  horses,  but  restricts  its 
operations  within  the  area  of  a  town  or  other  populous  district.  As 
examples  of  such,  may  be  mentioned  the  London  Parcels  Delivery 
Company,  Carter,  Paterson,  &  Co.,  Sutton  &  Co.'s  London  System,  &c. 
These  companies  serve  the  whole  metropolitan  area.  Other  large 
towns  generally  have  similar  companies  on  a  proportionate  scale. 
Liverpool,  Glasgow,  and  Edinburgh  especially  have  extensive  systems 
of  distribution. 

Lastly,  there  is  an  almost  infinite  number  of  small  disconnected 
carriers,  who  serve  particular  villages  and  lines  of  road.  They  are 
usually  men  who  own  one,  two,  or  at  most  only  a  few  carts  and 
horses,  who  travel  daily  into  some  country  town,  and  put  up  at  a. 
favourite  public  house.  This  house  serves  as  a  depot  for  parcels  and 
messages  left  for  them,  and  the  carrier  calls  at  various  places  on  and 
off  his  usual  route,  whether  to  pick  up  or  deliver  small  goods,  according 
to  instructions.  Their  charges  are  very  various  and  governed  by  no 
rule ;  except  in  London,  the  only  law  on  the  subject  seems  to  be  to 
the  efl'ect  that  the  charge  must  be  reasonable,  whatever  that  may  mean. 


But  they  seldom  charge  less  than  4J.  or  &d.  for  any  parcel.  The  men 
are  usually  illiterate  and  slow  in  all  their  proceedings.  Their  number 
is  often  very  great.  In  the  London  Directory  for  1876,  there  are 
specified  about  216  such  carriers ;  in  Glasgow  some  years  ago  there 
were  147,  and  many  large  towns  would  each  have  100  or  more 
local  carriers. 

All  this  mass  of  conveyances,  be  it  remembered,  is  in  addition  to 
the  vast  number  of  private  delivery  carts  employed  by  tradesmen. 
Great  estabUshments,  such  as  Shoolbred's,  Marshall  and  Snellgrove's, 
Whiteley's,  Maple's,  Burton's,  &c.,  &c.,  have  each  their  own  parcel 
dehvery  company,  so  to  say.  Some  houses  even  have  two  deli- 
veries a  day  in  the  metropoUtan  districts.  The  immense  cost  of 
such  deUvery  staffs  would  be  to  a  great  extent  saved  by  a  parcel 
post;  but  it  is,  of  course,  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  ordinary 
tradespeople's  delivery  of  meat,  vegetables,  &c.,  would  be  much 

At  first  sight  this  mass  of  carrying  arrangements  seems  to  be  chaotic, 
but  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention,  and  necessity  has  obUged 
these  disconnected  and  often  antagonistic  bodies  to  work  together  to 
a  certain  extent.  ^Vhen  one  carrier  gets  to  the  end  of  his  tether  he 
assumes  a  right  to  hand  on  his  parcel  to  any  other  carrier  he  Ukes, 
who  "pays  out "  the  charges  already  incurred,  adds  his  own  charge  at 
discretion,  and  recovers  the  sum-total  from  the  helpless  consignee. 
Whether  this  practice  is  legal,  in  the  absence  of  any  distinct  prior 
contract,  I  am  not  able  to  say ;  but  it  is  at  any  rate  sanctioned  by 
force  of  habit  and  necessity.  The  larger  parcel  companies  of  course 
have  arrangements  with  each  other,  and  they  often  undertake  to 
deliver  goods  in  distant  towns  at  the  lowest  rates,  passing  the  parcels 
on  from  one  to  another. 

One  result  of  this  multiplicity  of  carriers  is  that  it  is  usually  impos- 
sible to  ascertain  what  the  conveyance  of  a  parcel  will  cost.  For 
traffic  between  the  large  towns,  indeed,  there  are  definite  tariffs  pub- 
lished by  the  p]xpress  Companies,  but  these  documents  are  not  easily  to 
be  r)btained.  Between  Manchester  and  London,  for  instance,  a  parcel 
undiT  1  lb.  may  (or  lately  might)  be  sent  by  mail  train  for  Ad.\  under 
12  lbs.,  for  2s.  Yrora  Glasgow  to  London  the  rate  was  8d.  under  1  lb.; 
2*.  6(/.  under  12  lbs.  But  these  charges  include  delivery  only  within 
town  limits,  wliich  limits  are  drawn  at  the  discretion  and  convenience 
of  the  deliverers.  The  multitudes  who  now  dwell  in  suburban  parts 
are  almost  entirely  at  tlie  mercy  of  the  carriers,  who  will  either  send 
their  carts  specially  and  make  a  large  extra  clmrge,  or  hand  the  parcel 
over  to  local  carriers,  who  impose  their  own  new  toll.  Not  long  since 
a  book  weighing  less  than  2  lbs.  was  presented  at  my  house  at  Hamp- 
stead  with  a  demand  for  1^.  for  deliverj'.  It  appeared  to  come  out  of 
Fleet  Street,  but,  wherever  it  came  from,  might  have  reached  me  by 
post  from  any  part  of  the*  United  Kingdom  for  Id.  or  8t/.     On  refusing 


to  pay  an  apparently  extortionate  charge  without  explanation,  the 
book  was  promptly  carried  off,  and  I  have  never  seen  it  since.  With 
the  railway  companies  the  case  is  almost  worse ;  not  only  do  they,  as 
we  shall  see,  maintain  an  extortionate  general  tariff,  but  they  have 
narrow-  limits  of  free  delivery,  and  can  charge  anything  they  like  for 
delivery  beyond  those  limits.  When  hving  in  the  suburbs  of  Man- 
chester in  a  very  populous  district  only  four  miles  from  the  centre  of 
the  town,  I  often  had  expeiience  of  this  fact.  In  one  case  a  book 
package  weighing  ^  oz.  less  than  3  lbs.,  and  carriage  paid  hy  the  sender^ 
was  charged  1«.  2d.  for  delivery  by  the  railway  company.  About  the 
same  time  another  book,  weighing  a  little  or^-  8  lbs.,  was  received  by 
post,  carriage  paid,  for  1«.  O^rf.,  this  being  the  whole  charge,  and 
delivery  being  far  more  rapid  than  by  parcel  van.  On  another  occa- 
sion a  parcel  of  seven  copies  of  a  book,  weighing  in  all  5^  lbs., 
although  carriage-paid  to  the  extent  of  Xs.  6rf.  at  London,  was  charged 
1«.  2d.  for  deUvery  at  Manchester,  in  all  2s.  M. ;  whereas,  had  the 
books  been  made  up  into  two  or  more  parcels  at  London  and  sent  by 
post,  they  would  have  reached  me  for  a  total  cost  of  1«.  lOrf.  The 
climax,  however,  was  reached  in  the  case  of  a  parcel  of  forty  copies  of 
a  book,  which  were  received  by  railway  at  such  a  cost  that  each  copy 
might  have  been  made  up  into  a  separate  parcel,  and  despatched  by 
post  to  forty  different  addresses  in  all  parts  of  the  United  Kingdom 
for  about  the  same  aggregate  cost.  Nor  can  the  consignee  pro- 
tect himself  against  such  extreme  charges.  The  consignor  knows 
and  cares  nothing  about  the  deliveiy  charges,  and  in  the  usual 
course  sends  the  parcels  to  the  nearest  receiving  offices.  Instruc- 
tions which  I  have  repeatedly  given  to  consignoi*s  are  usually 
disregarded,  and  any  attempt  to  recover  the  overcharge  would  be 
regarded  as  absurd. 

Of  course  the  cases  which  I  have  quoted  are  only  specimens  of  what 
must  be  happening  daily  with  himdreds  of  thousands  or  even  millions 
of  parcels.  A  sixpence  or  a  shilling  may  be  a  trifle  in  itself,  but  multiply 
it  by  millions,  and  the  matter  becomes  one  of  national  importance.  All 
large  sums  are  made  up  of  little  units,  and  the  history  of  the  Post 
Office  before  Sir  Rowland  Hill's  reform  shows  how  small  oppressive 
overcharges  strangle  traffic. 

Let  us  now  look  at  the  charges  which  are  made  by  the  principal 
railway  companies  for  conveyance  and  delivery  within  the  usual  limits. 
These  are  by  no  means  unifomi,  and  each  company  usually  has 
exceptional  rates  for  certain  districts.  The  following  table,  however, 
which  is  an  extract  from  the  tables  of  the  London  and  North  Western 
Railway,  contains  a  uniform  tariff  which  has  been  recently  adopted  by 
the  principal  companies — such  as  the  North  Western,  Midland,  Great 
Northern — carrying  to  the  north  of  London.  It  will  therefore  serve  as 
a  good  specimen  : — 



With  few  exceptions  the  Scale  of  Charg«a  (exclastTe  of  Booking  Fee)  to  cr  fiom  Stations 
on  the  London  and  North  Western  Bailway  is  as  under : — 



\sA  not  exceed- 

1  lb. 

2  Um. 

5  1b.    ,V^- 

Above  7  n». 

and  iit>t 




«.     d. 




iL     s.     iL 








0     6 




6  1  0    6 









.  0    6 




6  i  0    8 








'  0    6 




8  '  0  10 







0    6 



0     13 


.  1 






,  0    8 


3     16 


,  1 






'O.  9 


6     19 







0'  9 




:  2 






,  0    9 


6     2    0 








1     0 


9     2     6 


'  3 






1     3 



0     2    9 


.  3 




Above  600 

1     6 



3     3    0 






A  Special  Scale  is  in  operation  in  the  districts  of  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire,  and  to  the 
Lines  South  of  the  Thames. 

This  tariff  is  wonderfully  constructed.  As  regards  the  columns  to- 
wards the  right  hand,  I  give  the  puzzle  up  altogether.  It  passes  my 
understanding  why  the  limit  of  weight  should  be  made  to  vary  at 
•different  distances  from  14  lbs.  to  15  lbs.,  IG  lbs.,  and  18  Ibe.  I  have 
studied  inductive  logic  ;  but  no  logic  seems  Ukely  to  disclose  reason 
or  method  here.  As  regards  weights  under  7  lbs.  there  is  at  least  the 
appearance  of  reason,  and  that  reason  is  the  exacting  the  utmost 
that  the  unfortunate  owner  of  the  parcel  can  be  induced  to  pay.  It 
is  true  that  for  small  distances  the  charge,  exclusive  of  booking  fety  is 
not  altogether  immoderate.  For  6rf.  a  7  lb.  parcel  may  be  sent  thirty 
miles,  a  2  lb.  parcel  one  hundred  miles,  and  so  on ;  this  no  doubt  is 
designed  to  prevent  competition  by  road  carriers;  but  at  larger 
distances,  when  horse  conveyance  is  out  of  the  question,  the  public  is 
made  to  smart.  A  1  lb.  parcel  transmitted  five  hundred  to  six  hundred 
miles  costs  \s,  3d.,  exclusive  of  booking  fee ;  by  post  the  book  rate 
is  \d.  per  lb.  or  barely  more  than  the  fourth  part.  The  postal  rate  for 
9k  letter,  weighing  above  12  oz.,  is  Irf.  for  every  ounce.  The  parcel 
Tate  then  is  only  a  penny  less  than  the  postal  rate  of  a  letter !  What 
is  most  extraordinary  about  tliis  tariff  is  the  importance  attributed  to 
distance.  I  suppose  a  1  lb.  parcel  sent  from  London  to  Glasgow  may 
l)e  put  into  the  van  at  Euston,  and  never  stirred  until  it  reaches  Glas- 
gow ;  yet  the  mere  transit  costs  the  sender  6rf.  more  than  for  short 
distances.  Now  we  must  suppose  that  Gd.  covers  all  the  terminal 
charges,  and  costs  of  collection  and  delivery,  for  this  is  all  that  the 
companies  ask  for  short  distance  parcels,  exclusive  of  booking  fees, 
whatever  they  may  be.  Hence  at  least  6rf.  goes  for  the  cost  of  trac- 
tion, wear  and  tear  of  van,  interest  on  capital,  &c. ;  but  a  ton  consists 
of  2240  lbs.,  and  a  ton  weight  of  1  lb.  parcels  would  be  no  gieat  load 
for  a  van.  Thus  the  tolls  collected  on  merely  carrying  that  ton  load 
for  four  hundred  or  five  hundred  miles  would  be  £50,  and  including 


collection  and  delivery  it  would  be  £112.  A  ton  load  of  thii'd-class-- 
.passengers  would  yield  only  £25  all  told. 

These  very  excessive  charges  apply,  it  is  true,  only  to  the  smallest 
parcels ;  on  examining  the  other  columns,  it  will  be  found  that  the 
higher  weights  are  charged  at  much  lower  rates,  possibly  to  underbid 
competition  by  road,  canal,  or  steam  boat.  But  taking  it  as  a  whole 
this  tariff  may  be  described  as  devoid  of  all  method.  It  seems 
to  be  a  purely  arbitrary  series  of  numbers,  evolved  perhaps  from  the 
brains  of  railway  magnates  arranging  a  compromise  at  some  con- 
ference of  the  noi-thern  directors. 

To  show,  however,  how  the  parcel  charges  compare  with  the  various 
other  charges  made  by  the  railway  companies,  I  have  constructed  the 
following  table  from  autlientic  data  furnished  by  the  railway  time 
'tables,  the  reports  of  Railway  Commissions,  &c.  The  table  refers 
to  no  railway  in  particular,  and  the  data  were  selected  almost  at 


Small  parcels    ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ••  200 

Medium     „       ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  100 

Large        „      ...         ..  ..  ..  •.  ..  40 

Newspaper  parcels     ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  100 

Passengers' excess  luggage  ..  ..  ..  ..  OG 

Commercial  travellers'  luggage  ..  •.  ..  3;) 

First  class  passenger  fare  ..  •.  ..  ..  175 

Second     „  „  „  ..  ..  ..  ..  125 

Third       „  „  „  ..  ..  •.  ..  75 

Live  poultry      ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  100 

Watercress       ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  3:3 

Milk      ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ••  ..  12 

High  class  goods  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  32 

Medium  goods..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  13 

Low  class  goods  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  4 

Coal  traflSc,  lowest  rate  •.  ..  ..  ..  15 

This  is  an  extraordinary  table,  and  shows  what  latitude  the  traffic 
managers  allow  themselves  in  taxing  or  assisting  various  trades.  Like 
protectionist  statesmen,  they  think  the  traffic  cannot  go  on  unless  their 
vigilance  eases  or  multiplies  the  burden.  Our  ancient  system  of  duties, 
and  bounties,  and  drawbacks,  is  faithfully  reproduced  in  our  railway 
tariffii,  with  their  classes,  and  exceptions,  and  exemptions,  and  special 
rates,  and  endless  minute  distinctions. 

An  examination  of  the  table  will  render  it  quite  evident  that  the 
railway  companies  have  deliberately  treated  the  small  parcel  traffic  as 
a  close  monopoly  which  they  can  tax  with  any  charge  they  like.  No 
excuse  for  such  excessive  charges  can  possibly  be  given.  It  may  be 
explained,  indeed,  Wmi  the  newspaper  parcels,  being  a  regular  daily 
-uniform  traffic,  can  be  more  easily  provided  fur;  but  how  are  we  to 
apply  the  same  explanation  to  connnereial  travellei-s'  luggage  ?  For 
the  charge  stated,  many  of  the  companies  allow  a  commercial  traveller 



to  bring  as  many  heavy  packages  as  he  likes,  and  to  take  them  in  and 
out  of  the  trains  as  many  times  in  tlic  day  as  he  likes,  ^-ithont  extra 
charge*  Several  porters  are  Bometiuies  needed  to  manipulate  this 
luggage,  and  the  train  is  occasionaUy  detained  thereby.  But  though 
the  companies  urge  that  they  do  this  to  promote  trade  in  their  dis- 
tricts, why  cannot  they  promote  the  trade  in  small  parcels  alsot  ,If 
properly  developed  this  traffic  wotdd  include  ao  immense  mans  of 
orders  for  small  tradesmen,  and  the  vast  loss  of  labour  and  mouey 
involved  in  the  commercial  traveller  system  might  be  partially 
avoided  by  the  copious  use  of  sample  packages.  Really  it  some- 
times strikes  me  as  very  questionable  how  far  a  small  body  of 
directors,  sitting  at  Enston  Square  or  Paddington,  should  be  allowed 
to  constitute  themselves  the  judges  of  the  way  in  which  the  commerce 
and  th*.t  traffic  of  the  countiy  is  to  go  on.  They  can  promote  this 
foi'm  of  traffic,  oppress  another,  extinguish  u  third,  in  a  way  which 
Parliament  itself  would  not  venture  to  do- 
But  let  us  now  turn  to  another  side  of  this  subject  and  attempt  to 
decide  whether  the  conveyance  of  parcels  is  a  kind  of  industry  which 
is  likely  to  be  well  and  economically  conducted  by  a  Government 
department.  As  I  have  pointed  out  in  two  pre\'ious  publications,* 
we  must  not  assume  that  a  Government  department  will  manage  every 
kind  of  industry  as  badly  as  the  Admiralty  manage  the  boilers  of  their 
iron-clads,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  as  apparently  well  as  the  Pont  Office 
manages  the  distribution  of  letters.  The  presiunption  is  always 
against  a  State  department ;  but  in  any  particular  kind  i»f  work  there 
may  be  special  conditions  which  render  the  unity  and  monopoly  of 
Government  control  desirable  and  profitable.  On  this  point  I  will 
take  the  liberty  of  quoting  from  my  paper  published  by  the  Man- 
chester Statistical  Society,  p.  91, 

**  Before  we  gWe  our  adhesion  to  systems  of  State  telegraphs  and  State  rail- 
ways in  this  kingdom,  wo  should  closely  iiniuire  whether  telegraphs  aod  rail- 
ways have  m<>re  analogy  to  the  Post  Oflhx^  or  tn  thv  Doflvvaniw.  ThKs  arj^Tiiuent 
from  arialog-y  is  fre<*ly  use<l  l>y  evtry  otic.  It  is  the  argument  of  \hv  so-failed 
Reformers,  who  urge  that  if  we  treat  the  tele^iaplis  and  the  rail  ways  a.s  Sir 
Rowland  Hill  tivated  the  Post  Othee,  redudiif::  fares  to  a  low  and  utiiform  rate* 
we  shall  reap  the  same  gratifying  result.s.  Bnt  this  wi!i  depend  upon  wlietber 
the  analogy  is  correct — whether  the  telegraphs  and  railways  resejnl>le  the  Po^t 
Office  in  those  conditif^ns  wiiieh  render  the  latter  highly  successful  in  the  hands 
of  Ciuveniment.and  enalile  a  low  uniform  rate  to  bt*  adopted.  To  this  poiyt  the 
following  reuiarkB  are  directed. 

'*  It  seems  to  me  that  State  management  possesses  advantagci?  under  the 
following  eonditi^  ms  : — 

"  I,  Where  nnraberles8  wide-spread  operations  can  only  be  efficiently  con- 
nected, utiited.  and  ct>H.»rdinate<K  in  a  single,  albexteusive  Govemment  system. 

^*  2.  Where  the  operations  possess  nn  invariable  routine-like  character. 

♦  Tmaaactioiia  of  the  Manchester  Statiatioal  Society,  April,  1867,  pp*  89 — 104;  On 
Jtbe  -\-'  '  ■  *  '  :n  the  Post  Office,  Telegrapha,  and  ot^  -  *  ms  of  Conveyanoi?  of  the 
'Uni*  1=*  regards  GoTt^mment  Control.—  >  I  Addresses  hy  Profee- 

wom.  ,.„,  :.-    -.w^..   of   Owen's  College,  Manchester:  1   :.   ,  IL- ;cniillitn).  pp,  465 — 505 1 

The  Eiiilways  and  the  State, 


"  3.  \\Tiere  they  are  performed  under  the  public  eye  or  for  the  service  of 
-Individuals,  who  will  immediately  detect  and  expose  any  failure  or  laxity. 

"  4.  Where  there  is  but  little  capital  expenditiure,  so  that  each  year's  revenue 
and  expense  account  shall  represent,  with  sufficient  accuracy,  the  real  com- 
mercial conditions  of  the  department." 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  I  think,  that  in  all  the  four  points  specified 
above,  parcel  traffic  is  highly  suited  to  State  management. ,  It  is  con- 
ducted at  present,  as  we  have  seen,  by  almost  numberless  disconnected 
or  antagonistic  companies  and  private  carriers,  who,  though  not  par- 
ticularly ineflicient  each  in  his  own  sphere,  are  highly  wasteful  and 
ineflicient  as  a  system.  The  operations  of  the  parcel  post,  again, 
would  be  almost  as  routine-like  as  those  of  the  Post  Office.  There 
would  be  none  of  the  deUcate  scientific  and  technical  questions 
involved  in  the  building  of  iron-clads  or  the  construction  of  torpedoes. 
There  Vould  be  nothing  more  occult  in  the  carrying  of  a  parcel  than 
in  the  stamping  and  sorting  and  delivery  of  letters.  There  would 
oertainly  be  some  variations  of  traffic  to  be  provided  against,  espe- 
-cially  about  Christmas  time ;  but  it  would  not  be  comparatively  w^orse 
than  the  pressure  of  Christmas  cards  or  valentines  upon  the  Post 
Office.  If  necessary,  it  might  be  met  by  a  temporary  increase  of 
charges  during  Christmas  week.  In  respect  of  the  third  point,  the 
.parcel  post  is  as  favourably  situated  as  the  letter  post.  Nobody 
knows  nor  cares  what  is  done  with  the  boilers  of  H.M.'s  ship  Pinafore 
when  ci-uising  in  Turkish  waters ;  but  everybody  would  know  and 
care,  each  in  his  ow^n  case,  if  Mudie's  parcel  of  novels  was  unpunctual, 
or  the  new  dress  gone  astray,  or  the  pot  of  Devonshire  cream  gone  bad, 
or  the  author  s  life-long  labour — his  cherished  manuscript — irretriev- 
•ably  lost.  The  officials  of  the  Dead  and  Missing  Parcel  Department 
would  need  strong  nerves  and  placid  dispositions  to  stand  the  constant 
stream  of  indignation  which  would  fall  upon  them.  There  could  be 
•no  undetected  laxity  in  the  Parcel  Depaiiment. 

In  respect,  however,  of  the  fourth  point  of  State  management, 
there  might  be  room  for  more  doubt.  The  immense  success  of  the 
Post  Office  is  much  dependent  upon  the  fact  that,  in  respect  of  letters, 
the  Postmaster-General  has  little  capital  expenditure  under  his  charge. 
The  railway  companies  fortunately  ovm  and  manage  all  the  more 
elaborate  instmments  of  carriage,  and  do  the  work  of  the  Post  Office 
by  contract.  The  whole  of  the  hoi*se  conveyance  of  the  mails  is  also 
done  by  contract,  or  at  least  ought  so  to  be  done.  All  the  minor  post 
offices,  too,  are  placed  in  private  premises.  Only  the  large  buildings 
at  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  and  the  principal  offices  in  the  London 
districts  and  some  of  the  larger  provincial  towns,  are  actually  owned 
by  the  Government  for  postal  pui-poses.  Beyond  this  property  they 
only  own  the  letter  bags,  the  stamps,  the  pillar  boxes,  and  so  forth, 
property  in  value  quite  inconsiderable.  With  the  telegraph  branch  it 
is  different ;  whether  wisely  or  otherwise  (and  I  inchne  to  think  other- 


wise),  the  Poet  OflSce  actnally  own  the  posts  and  wires,  instruments,, 
and  other  fixed  plant  of  the  telegraphs.  They  construct  and  repair 
them ;  and,  still  worse,  they  find  it  necessary  to  call  in  the  aid  of 
Royal  Engineers  to  do  this  efficiently  and  economically.  I  have  little 
doubt  that  all  this  work  ought  to  have  been  put  out  to  contract.  But, 
however  this  may  be,  the  difficulty  would  not  much  press  in  the  case 
of  the  parcel  post ;  for  it  would  require  no  extensive  and  complicated 
series  of  scientific  instruments  for  its  conduct.  The  railway  com- 
panies would  of  course  do  the  long-distance  conveyance ;  the  collec- 
tion and  distribution  would,  equally  of  course,  be  done  by  hired  carts  • 
and,  beyond  a  few  weighing  machines,  porters'  trucks,  packing  cases,, 
and  the  like  simple  appliances,  it  is  difficult  to  see  what  fixed  capital 
the  Parcel  Department  need  own.  Receiving  and  distributing  offices- 
would  be  needed,  often  on  a  rather  large  scale ;  but  they  might  b^ 
leased  or  built,  as  was  found  most  economical.  Thus  I  feel  sure  that, 
in  respect  of  capital  expenditure,  the  Parcel  Post  would  be  far  more 
favoiutibly  situated  than  the  Telegraph  Department,  and  would  be 
closely  analogous  to  the  Letter  Post. 

Then,  again,  the  parcel  monopoly  would  in  no  appreciable  degree 
interfere  with  the  progress  of  invention,  as  the  telegraph  monopoly 
appears  to  do.  In  spite  of  Mr.  AY.  H.  Preece's  vigorous  attempt  to 
show  the  opposite,*  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  birthplace  of  the  electric 
telegraph  has  ceased  to  be  the  foremost  in  the  race  of  electrical  in- 
ventions. Some  half-dozen  capital  inventions,  such  as  duplex  and 
qnadniplex  telegraphy;  the  telephone,  the  carbon  telephone,  &c.,- 
have  been  made  since  the  Government  took  the  telegraphs.  How 
many  of  them  have  been  made  on  English  soil  ?  The  telephone  is,  I 
believe,  quite  in  familiar  use  in  the  United  States :  where  is  it  yet 
made  practically  useful  in  England  ?  The  chill  of  red  tape  and  cir- 
cumlocution has  fallen  upon  the  zeal  of  invention,  a  zeal  which  fears 
nothing  so  much  as  the  inertia  of  bureaucracy,  and  the  cool  indiffer- 
ence of  ily  Lords  of  the  Treasury.  If  ever  future  historians  of  a  more 
advanced  age  inquire  into  the  rise  of  a  new  civilization  in  the  nine- 
teenth centurj-,  they  will  wonder  at  nothing  so  much  as  the  treatment 
of  inventors  by  the  English  Government.  It  is  as  bad  and  senselesa 
in  its  way  as  the  imprisonment  of  Roger  Bacon,  or  the  condenmation 
of  Galileo.  Neglect,  contumely,  confiscation,  are  the  fate  of  the- 
English  inventor  at  the  hands  of  the  English  Government. 

I  hold,  therefore,  that  the  conveyance  of  small  goods  is  a  kind  of 
business  which  a  Government  department  would  carrj'  on  with  a* 
maxinnmi  of  advantage  and  a  minimum  of  financial  risk  or  interference 
with  the  progiess  of  science  and  industry.  In  some  respects  it  would 
have  been  better  to  leave  the  work  to  the  care  of  a  combination  of 
railway  companies ;  but  I  fear  they  could  never  be  induced  to  maka 

•  British  Assxiiation  :  Dublin  Meeting.  Joumvl  of  the  Society  of  Arts,  August  23rd,. 
1S78,  vol.  xxvi.  p.  S02.     See  also  p.  890. 


the  system  complete.  The  whole  movement  of  parcels  up  to  30  lbs.  or 
50  lbs.  weight  should  therefore  be  carried  on  by  a  Government  organi- 
zation closely  analogous  to  that  of  the  letter  post,  but  yet  distinct 
from  it ;  parallel  and  co-operating  when  desirable,  but  not  interfering 
or  hampei-ing  the  more  rapid  distribution  of  letters.  This  department 
would  acquire  the  parcel  business  of  the  railway  companies,  and  would 
also  buy  up  the  good-will  of  the  parcel  express  companies.  It  would 
utilize  the  whole  of  the  earners'  stock  of  carts,  horses,  ofBces,  &c.,  by 
employing  them  on  remunerative  contracts;  it  would  thus  organize, 
ratherthan  replace,  the  existing  means  of  conveyance,  but  by  introducing 
system  where  there  was  no  system  would  much  increase  the  efficiency 
of  the  present  means.  Instead  of  a  multitude  of  carts  traversing  long 
Stances  often  to  deliver  single  parcels,  each  cart  would  serve  one 
group  of  houses,  to  which  it  would  proceed  direct  from  the  delivery 
office  with  a  good  load.  When  the  traffic  was  properly  developed, 
almost  every  house  would  have  a  daily  parcel  or  even  several,  and 
these  would  be  delivered  with  a  speed  to  which  there  is  nothing  com- 
parable now  except  that  of  the  penny  post.  As  the  shopkeepers  would 
deliver  almost  exclusively  through  the  parcel  post,  the  streets  would 
be  freed  from  their  multitude  of  vans,  and  customers  would  eventually 
be  saved  the  enormous  cost  which  some  establishments  must  bear,  in 
maintaining  a  large  staff  of  delivery  carts.  The  consumera  must  of 
course  bear  all  such  expenses  in  the  long  run.  As  to  the  employes  of 
the  present  companies,  they  would  be  **  taken  over  "  as  part  of  the 
concerns,  and  would  no  doubt  have  their  salaries  advanced  at  once, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  telegraph  companies. 

One  of  the  most  important  and  difficult  points  to  determine  in  con- 
nection with  the  scheme  which  I  am  advocating,  is  the  selection  of  a 
tariff  for  the  future  parcel  system.  The  principles  on  which  such  a 
tariff  must  be  founded  require  careful  investigation.  As  we  have  seen, 
Mr.  Edward  J.  Page,  of  the  Post  Office,  adopts  the  idea  of  a  uniform 
parcel  rate,  as  it  had  been  previously  upheld  by  the  Society  of  Arts  ; 
he  would  make  the  cluirge  independent  of  distance,  and  vary  it  only 
with  the  weight  of  the  parcel.  The  convenience  of  such  a  tariff,  if  it 
can  be  adopted,  is  obvious.  With  a  pair  of  scales  we  can  infallibly 
ascei'tain  the  weight  of  the  parcel  we  are  sending,  and  then  calculate 
the  fare  to  be  paid.  If  distance  enters,  we  have  to  ascertain  also  the 
position  and  distance  of  the  place  to  which  we  are  consigning  the 
parcel.  For  this  purpose  we  must  consult  tables  which  will  seldom  be 
at  hand.  The  greater  number  of  persons  will  be  reduced  to  simply 
asking  tlio  receiving  clerk  what  is  to  be  paid ;  not  only  delay,  but 
uncertainty,  and  opportunity  for  fraud  thus  arise, — all  the  disadvan- 
tages, in  short,  against  which  the  fixed  tariff  of  tlie  Post  Office  ensures 
us.  There  can  be  no  doubt  then  about  the  excellence  of  a  uniform 
charge  irrespective  of  distance,  if  it  can  be  adopted. 

But  on  careful  examination  it  will  be  found  that  Mr.  Page's  proposal 

.1  STATE  PARCEL  POST.  223 

must  be  intended  by  him  to  apply  only  to  ven-  small  parcels,  or  else  it 
betrays  an  imperfect  comprehension  of  the  subject  with  which  he  is 
dealing.  I  imagine  he  must  have  chosen  a  imiform  tariff  on  the 
ground  that  it  answers  very  well  in  the  Post  Office,  and  therefore  must 
answer  well  Avith' parcels.  But  by  such  reasoning  as  this,  one  might 
infer  that  because  a  minute  dose  of  prussic  acid  soothes  and  benefits 
the  stomach,  therefore  a  good  large  dose  will  be  still  more  beneficial. 
Mr.  Page,  hke  many  another  hasty  theorist,  forgets  that  a  whole  mail- 
bag  full  of  letters  only  makes  a  moderate  parcel.  Taking  letters  at  an 
average  of  half-an-ounce  each,  there  are  32  to  the  pound,  or  960  in  a 
30  lb.  parcel.  Thus  the  element  of  weight  enters  into  parcel  traffic, 
48ay  from  a  hundred  to  a  thousand  times  as  much  as  into  letter  traffic. 
Sir  Rowland  Hill's  admirable  scheme  of  a  uniform  postal  charge 
was  based  upon  the  carefully  demonstrated  fact  that  the  mere  transit 
-cost  of  a  letter  to  a  distant  place  did  not  exceed  that  to  a  near  place 
by  more  than  l-36th  part  of  a  penny.  There  was  no  coin  sufficiently 
small  to  represent  the  difference  of  cost  due  to  distance,  and  therefore 
he  was  enabled  to  embrace  the  uniform  charge  system.  But  a  little 
<;alculation  shows  how  different  is  the  case  vrith  parcels. 

The  mileage  rates  charged  by  the  railway  companies  upon  goods 
vary  exceedingly,  and  in  the  most  casual  manner.  The  minimum 
is  usually  about  Id.  per  ton  per  mile,  and  the  maximum  is  some- 
where about  Id.  Now  Id.  per  ton  per  mile,  is  equal  to  4'464<i. 
per  100  lbs.  per  100  miles,  so  that,  if  we  were  to  assume  only 
a  medium  charge  of  M.  per  ton  per  mile,  a  100  lb.  parcel  tranfr- 
mittod  500  rfiiles  would  cost,  merely  for  transit,  about  Ss.  Id.  The 
idea  of  charging  this  sum  for  the  carriage  of  a  100  lb.  package  for  a 
few  miles  would  be  prohibitorj^  and  absurd.  But  the  rates  from  which 
I  have  been  calculating  are  only  those  for  ordinary  goods  by  goods 
trains.  For  parcel  traffic  we  should  require  either  special  rapid  parcel 
trains,  or  else  accommodation  in  passenger  trains,  which  must  be 
costly.  Looking  to  the  table  given  above,  we  can  scarcely  expect  the 
railway  companies  to  accept  less  than  2oc/.  per  100  lbs.  per  100  miles 
{b'M.  per  ton  per  mile),  that  is,  about  a  quarter  of  what  they  now 
charge  for  parcels.  At  this  rate  the  cost  of  transmitting  the  follo^ving 
weights  500  miles,  without  any  terminal  charges,  is  worthy  of  notice. 

s,    d. 

Parcel  of  100  lbs lU     5 

„      ,,     10   „  1     OA 

«^  ••  1.        IL).  a.  ■.  ..  ••  ••  JL^ 

Letter  of  ioz. ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  -04 

It  is  evident  that  the  analogy  between  the  parcel  and  the  letter 
post  breaks  down  altogether.  Even  for  a  1  lb.  parcel  the  effect  of  dis- 
tance is  appreciable ;  for  a  10  lb.  parcel  it  could  not  be  overlooked ; 
for  a  1(X)  lb.  parcel  it  would  constitute  almost  the  whole  of  the  charge. 
We  are  thus  re^luced  to  three  alternatives  in  case  of  adopting  a 


uniform  charge.  Either  (1)  we  must  restrict  the  weight  of  parcels,  so  as 
to  make  the  parcel  post  hardly  more  useful  for  sending  goods  than  the 
present  letter  post ;  or  (2)  we  must  impose  so  high  a  charge,  as  would 
be  intolerably  oppressive  as  regards  small  distances;  or  (3)  we  must 
impose  so  low  a  charge  that  the  ordinary  goods  charges  of  the  railway 
companies  for  long  distances  would  be  underbid  by  the  parcel  post. 
The  result  of  the  third  alternative  would  evidently  be  that  all  goods 
would,  as  far  as  possible,  be  broken  down  into  parcels,  and  transmitted 
at  the  cost  of  the  State.     This  result  would  be  quite  intolerable. 

All  these  alternatives,  then,  being  inadmissible,  it  follows  that  a 
tarift*  irrespective  of  distance  is  impracticable,  and  we  must  revert  to  a 
mileage  rate.  The  charge  should  consist  of  two  components  :  (1)  a 
fixed  terminal  charge  of,  say,  2d»,  to  cover  the  costs  of  booking, 
delivery,  &c. ;  (2)  a  mileage  charge  determined  by  the  compound 
proportion  of  weight  and  distance.  A  very  important  point,  however, 
would  consist  in  fixing  rightly  the  minimum  charge  for  very  light 
parcels.  Now,  parcel  companies  have  been  started  to  work  at  a 
minimum  of  Id. ;  at  one  time  there  was  a  Penny  Parcel  Company  in 
London;  and  similar  companies  have  been  established  in  Glasgow 
and  elsewhere.  I  learn  that  the  Glasgow  Tramway  Company  now 
convey  and  deliver  newspaper  parcels  up  to  3  lb.  weight  for  Id.  each, 
but  other  parcels  up  to  7  lbs.  are  charged  2d.  as  a  minimum.  I  do- 
not  happen  to  know  of  the  present  existence  of  any  company  working 
with  common  parcels  so  low  as  Id.  even  for  short  distances.  But  even 
if  so  low  a  rate  were  practicable  in  particular  districts,  it  could  not 
possibly  be  recommended  for  adoption  in  a  general  parcel  system. 
The  lowest  rate  Avhicli  is  practically  existent  in  England  at  present  is 
3d.  or  4(?.,  and  it  would  not  be  wise  to  attempt  at  first  a  lower  rate 
than  M.  Taking  a  mileage  rate  of  5'Gd.  per  ton  per  mile,  or  25(/.  per 
100  lb.  per  100  miles;  adding  terminal  charges  in  each  case  to  the 
amount  of  2d. ;  and  then  raising  the  result  to  the  next  higher  integral 
number  of  pennies,  Ave  obtain  the  following  standard  tariff:* — 


50  Milos. 

100  Mil(  8. 

200  Miles. 

400  Miles. 

600  Mile.=^. 






s,    d. 

,<^.    d. 

.*.    d. 




..  ..            5      ..  .. 






..  ..            7      ..  .. 

1      0       .. 

..    1    r> 




10  •  ..  .. 

1      T)      .. 

..      2     1 




..  ..       1      0      ..  .. 

1   10      .. 

..      2     H 




..  ..      1     5      ..  .. 

2     !^      .. 

..    r>  11 



'.'. '.'.    1 


..  ..      2     3      ..  .. 

4     4      .. 

..     0    :> 


..  ..      1 




..  ..      4     4      ..  .. 

8     G      .. 

..    12      H 

I  give  the  charges  up  to   100  lbs.  weight  without  implying  that  the 
parcel  post  should  necessarily  carry  up  to  that  weight. 

•  After  calculating  this  tariff,  I  find  that  it  nearly  corresponds  with  one  which  exlstt^l 
four  years  a^rc  on  the  former  Bristol  and  Exeter  Railway,  which  charged  3*.  for  carryin;^ 
112  lbs.  over  a  maximum  of  100  miles.  But  I  should  propose  the  scale  only  as  a  iirst 
cautious  one,  and  with  the  hope  that  ylight  re<luctions  miglit  be  made  after  the  system 
"was  in  full  working  order. 


1  do  not  lieTJeTe  tliat  there  wotiM  "be  anv  serious  diificultr  in  work- 
ing  BDcL  a  tariff  as  this.  The  Tirbaii  and  foibnrban  traffic  a  veiy  large 
part  ofxht  TrLc»]tr  traffic,  vould  fall  entirely  wiiliin  the  fifty  mile  limit, 
and  the  matter  of  distance  need  hardly  be  confddered.  I  should  pro- 
pose io  determine  the  charges  fc»r  longer  distances  by  reference  to 
^anj  maj'fi.  as  was  formerly  the  practice  in  the  French  Post  Offieea. 
-when  letters  were  charged  a  distance  rate,  Minnte  difference*  are  of 
"no  acconnt  in  a  general  system  of  conveyance^  so  tliat  we  can  readily 
€Tibstitnte  the  distance  as  the  crow  flieis  for  the  actnal  distance  tra- 
•veiled  by  road  or  rail.  In  the  French  Post  Office  the  distances  seem 
to  hare  been  measnred  by  compasses  applied  to  official  maps :  but  a 
little  device  wonld  save  all  tn:»nble  of  measuring. 

I  would  have  tariff  maps  issued  by  the  Postal  authorities,  somewhat 
like  the  cheap  useful  map  prefixed  to  Bradshaw's  Guide,  but  rather 
larger  and  fuller,  and  sliowing  places.  instea<l  of  railways  or  other 
features.  Upon  the  face  of  this  map  should  be  printed  light-coloured 
concentric  distance  circles,  with  their  centre  upon  any  town  or  village 
for  which  the  map  was  to  indicate  the  tariff.  All  places  witliin  any 
^■»ne  zone  w<')uld  have  the  same  tariff  as  regards  the  central  place  :  and 
it  is  possible  that  the  tariff  for  the  zone  might  be  printed  in  colours 
actually  witliin  the  space  to  which  it  applies.  Such  maps  could  be 
produced  for  every  town  and  >411age  in  the  country  without  extra 
or>st ;  because,  with  a  properly  invented  press,  the  colour  stone  or 
block  could  be  shifted  so  as  to  print  its  centre  over  any  spot^  and  the 
required  number  of  copies  would  be  printed  off  for  the  service  of  that 
particular  place  before  shifting  the  circles  for  tlie  next  place. 

In  the  estabUshment  of  a  State  Parcel  Post  a  multitude  of  details 
would  of  course  have  to  be  considered,  for  the  discussion  of  which 
there  is  no  space,  and  no  need  here.  For  instance,  would  the  parcels 
be  all  registered  and  delivered  only  for  receipts  ?  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  this  would  be  indispensable  to  prevent  pilfering :  but  it  is 
prol:»able  that  the  labour  might  be  greatly  facilitated  by  the  use  of 
some  kind  of  numbered  stamp,  with  perforated  coupons.  One  part  of 
the  ticket  being  affixed  to  the  parcel,  serving  also  perhaps  as  an 
address  label,  the  counterf<.iils  might  be  used  as  receipts,  or  filed  to 
aavQ  the  trouble  of  booking.  I  have  often  amused  myself  with 
planning  the  details  of  such  a  scheme  of  ticket  registration,  to  replace 
the  cmnbrous  method  of  books  and  waybills:  but  it  would  be  need- 
less to  suggest  details  here.  I  am  sure  that  some  such  system  will 
one  day  be  adopted,  and  become  as  important  and  world-wide  as  the 
use  of  stamps  and  railway-tickets.  In  some  parts  of  Scotland  it  is 
already  the  practice  to  have  duplicate  penny  or  halfpenny  labels,  one 
of  which  is  pasted  on  any  parcel  sent  ti>  the  left  luggage-office  of  a 
railway  terminus,  while  the  coiuiterfoil  is  retained  by  the  owner; 
thus  when  leaving  town  in  the  evening  by  train  he  can  identity  his 
parcel.    The  use  of  stamps  on  newspaper  parcels  is  now  quite  general, 



and  at  least  one  company,  the  Bristol  and  Exeter,  extended  the  use 
of  stamps  to  their  parcel  traffic  generally.  The  Glasgow  Tramway 
Company  too  have  adopted  a  parcel  stamp  with  numbered  coupon,  to 
serve  as  a  waybill,  and  to  be  torn  off  by  the  person  deUvering  the 
parcel.  An  easy  development  of  this  system  would  soon  replace  the 
cmnbrous  booking  method. 

Any  person  seriously  proposing  the  establishment  of  a  general 
parcel  post  might  no  doubt  be  expected  to  produce  some  estimate  of 
its  probable  cost.  Much  minute  information,  however,  only  to  be 
obtained  by  the  power  of  Parliament,  would  be  needed  to  form  a 
reliable  estimate.  I  am  encouraged,  indeed,  to  attempt  some  calcula- 
tion«  by  the  fact  that,  in  the  case  of  the  telegraphs,  I  was,  in  respect 
to  one  important  item,  twenty-five  times  more  correct  than  Mr.  Scuda- 
more,  witli  all  his  infonnation,*  though,  of  course,  neither  I  nor  any 
other  nasonable  person  could  have  imagined  beforehand  how  much 
he  would  have  agreed  to  pay  the  telegraph  companies  for  their  rights. 
But  in  this  case  of  parcel  trafiic,  we  have  none  of  the  accurate  in- 
forniahon  which  existed  concerning  the  telegraph  companies  and  their 
capitals  and  dividends.  We  have,  of  course,  the  official  accounts  of 
railway  trafiic,  but  the  Act  of  Parliament  under  which  these  are 
collected  allowed,  or  rather  prescribed,  a  form  of  account  in  which 
the  receipts  from  parcel  trafiic  are  merged  with  those  from  excess 
lug^aL'«\  carriages,  horses,  and  dogs  I  Nor  are  these  items  dis- 
tinju:iiislK'd  in  any  of  the  reports  issued  by  the  companies  to  their 
shar*  holdei-s  which  I  possess.  Taking,  however,  Mr.  Giffen's  summary 
tabl( '^^  I't"  railway  trafiic  for  1876,  we  find  that  the  totals  of  these  items 
are  ^ivtn  as  follow  : — 

Eiig-liuKl  and  Wales £2,070,41)0 

►^cotland  ..  ..  ..  ..  237,115 

Ireland l()4,4r)2 

United  Kingtlom  ..  ..  ..     £2,41H,057 

Tl''  sum  represents  the  total  gross  receipts  from  such  traffic,  and  as* 
the  \v(»il<ing  and  capital  expenses  can  hardly  be  assigned  in  the  case 
of  st'rh  adventitious  sources  of  revenue,  it  would  no  doubt  be  difficult 
for  n  .  railway  companies  to  assign  with  any  precision  the  net  receipts 
froir-  a  reel  traffic.  Much  information  would  have  to  be  called  forth 
by  '  ;«r'ianientary  authority  before  it  would  be  possible  to  frame  any 
esti  t('s  of  the  sums  of  money  involved  in  establishing  a  general 
pnic  i  system.  J^ut  there  is  the  less  need  to  produce  any  financial 
estmt  't's  at  tlie  outset,  because  I  hold  that  if  the  tariff  be  rightly  a!Kl 
cat  '  "usly  framed,  there  must  be  a  largo  margin  of  economy  in  the 
w<  l<in^  of  the  department,  which  would  ensure  a  revenue  sufiicient 
to  ■  ■  'tr  all  probable  eliarges.     The  business,  as  I  have  pointed  out,  is 

•  'I   ..i.s:uti».ns  of  the  Man'.-liestor  Sliitlyticp.!  Socioty,  18(37,  p.  98.     Fortnightly  lievicir, . 
vol.     •   !■.  X.S.  p.  S27. 


analogous  to  the  letter  post  rather  than  the  telegraph  system  ;  there  is 
not  the  same  risk  of  loss  as  there  "Wixs  in  introducing  the  uniform 
shilling  telogi-ani,  or  the  uniform  sixpenny  telegram,  as  sanguine 
people  wished.  The  waste  of  horae-power,  of  men's  time,  and  of 
railway  carr^-ing  power  is  so  immense  under  the  present  chaotic 
arrangements,  that  to  the  community  as  a  whole  there  nnist  be  great 
profit,  in  reducing  that  chaos  to  systematic  organization.  So  far  as  I 
can  venture  to  form  any  estimate  of  the  financial  magnitude  of  the 
proposed  department,  I  should  say  that  it  will  certainly  not  cost 
more  than  three  or  four  times  as  much  as  the  Postal  Telegraph  Depart- 
ment. This  is  no  slight  sum,  indeed,  but  those  who  wince  at  it  must 
remember  that  it  is  only  about  the  licentietli  part  of  what  would  be 
involved  in  the  State  purchase  of  the  whole  railway  system.  This 
favourite  proposal  I  venture  to  regard  as  simply  visionary,  for  reasons 
already  given  in  the  Owen's  College  Essays ;  the  advantages  would  be 
doubtful  the  cost  and  risks  enormous.  But  hi  brndng  up  the  parcel 
branch  of  traffic  the  cost  and  risk  would  be  comparatively  small,  the 
advantages  and  profits  immense  and  almost  certain. 

Practical  men  will  no  doubt  have  more  belief  in  a  parcel  post  when 
they  learn  that  it  is  what  has  been  long  carried  into  effect  in  Prussia, 
as  well  as  Switzerland,  Denmark,  and  probably  other  Continental 
countries.  It  seems  desirable  that  the  details  of  these  postal  systems 
should  be  ascertained  by  our  consular  agencies,  and  described  in 
their  usual  reports.  But  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  give  the  following 
minute  account  of  the  Government  Parcel  Post  at  Berlin,  which  I 
have  translated  from  an  interesting  article  on  the  Postal  Serv^ice  of 
Berlin,  i)ublished  in  the  Berne  periodical  called  i'  Union  Posfakj  and 
reprinted  in  the  Bulletin  de  Statist iqne  et  Je  Ltyislafion  Compane  of  the 
French  ilinistry  of  Finance,  a  copy  of  which  I  have  the  honour  to 
receive  from  the  Ministry. 

-  All  tlie  on  Unary  parcels  {coUs)  destined  for  I^rlin  and  its  suburbs  are  sent 
t4>  the  i)arcel  office  {bttrtau  des  coliit)  which  is  situated  in  the  Arrondissement 
X,  or  North,  and  which  is  charp:ed  with  delivering  the  parcels  directly  to  the 
houses  of  the  consignees,  provided  that  the  latter  inhabit  the  city  proper,  or 
one  of  tlie  suburbs  of  Gesundbrunuen  or  Moabit.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  im-* 
poitance  of  this  service,  and  of  the  i-esoiuves  which  it  rccpiires,  it  is  sufficient 
to  remark  that  during  the  year  187(5,  it  has  handled  ;^0(»3,131  i>arcels^  and 
that  the  rt^luction  of  the  charge  to  50  pfennigs  (about  i^L)  jier  parcel,  up  to 
'>  kilogrammes  (11  lbs.),  independently  of  distance,  has  necessarily  had  the 
effect  of  increasing  th(»  traffic  from  day  to  day.  And  there  has  been  appro- 
priated to  this  service  a  whole  series  of  contiguous  buildings,  in  which  are 
engageil  72  employes,  and  214  vsubordinate  agents,  without  coimting  19  boys 
employed  to  call  over  the  parcels. 

"  Two  sjxvial  <)ffices.  installed  in  a  separate  building,  are  reserved  for  parcels 
addressed  to  persons  or  authorities  (of  which  the  numl>er  is  actually  375)  who 
have  given  instnictions  that  their  parcels  should  not  be  delivered  at  their  resi- 
liences; there  exists  another  shnilar  office  for  parcels  destined  for  the  garrison 
of  Berlin.  All  the  other  parcels  are  transported  to  the  residences  by  distri- 
buthig  vans,  and  are  dehvered  to  the  consignees  in  return  for  the  regulation 
IK>rterage  charge.     The  places  in   which  the   iH.>rters   deposit   and  sort  the 

Q  2 


packaf^es  are  75  metres  (246  feet)  long,  and  ll'GO  metres  (38  feel)  wide,  and  are 
divided  into  72  compartments.  By  well-considered  organization  of  the  service, 
and  an  intelligent  division  of  labour,  it  has  been  found  possible  to  commence 
each  distribution  one  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  last  consignment  which  is 
to  'form  part  of  it. 

"  The  deliveries  take  place,  during  the  winter,  three  times  each  day  (at  8, 
12,  and  3  o'clock),  and  in  summer  four  times  (at  8,  12,  3,  and  5  o'clock) ;  on 
Simdays  the  service  is  reduced  to  the  two  earlier  deliveries.  The  number  of 
carts  {yoitures)  employed  for  each  delivery  is  varied  according  to  need ;  at 
present  there  are  ^'2  employed  in  the  first  deliver}',  36  in  the  second,  27  in  the 
third,  and  25  in  the  fourth.  But  duiing  the  winter  months,  when  the  traffic 
is  very  considerable,  the  first  delivery  requires  72  carts,  without  speaking  of 
numerous  hired  carts  which  are  required  during  Christmastide. 

"  As  to  parcels  intended  for  the  suburbs  of  Berhn  (always  with  the  exception 
of  the  suburbs  Gesundbrunnen  and  Moabit),  the  parcel  office  forwards  them  by 
special  wagons  in  care  of  its  agents,  to  the  local  post-offices  resj^ectively 
charged  with  their  delivery." 

Here  is  an  interesting  picture  of  an  extensive  and  successful  Govern- 
ment parcel  post,  doing  a  large  business  of  three  million  parcels  a 
year.  Being  unaware  whether  the  charge  of  6d.  for  parcels  under 
11  lbs.  applies  to  BerUn  only  or  to  conveyance  over  longer  distances, 
it  is  not  possible  to  judge  of  its  pressure  ;  but  it  is  a  higher  minimum 
charge  than  we  should  think  of  proposing  for  a  British  Parcel  Post. 

In  some  parts  of  Scandinavia,  also,  there  is  a  well-arranged  Govern- 
ment parcel  post,  and  Mr.  J.  E.  H.  Skinner  tells  us,  that  in  Denmark 
parcels  not  exceeding  two  hundred  pounds  in  weight  can  be  for- 
warded through  the  feld-post  at  a  charge  of  a  penny  per  pound 
for  sixteen  miles.  This  charge  is  far  above  what  we  should  contem- 
plate in  this  country ;  but  it  applies  mostly  to  road  conveyance. 

Bad  as  are  our  arrangements  for  the  distribution  of  small  goods 
within  the  kingdom,  the  case  is  still  far  worse  as  regards  transmission 
to  foreign  countries.  Even  between  such  gi*eat  and  comparatively 
near  capitals  as  London  and  Paris,  or  London  and  Brussels,  the  smallest 
parcel,  of  less  than  1  lb.,  cannot  be  sent  for  less  than  2x.  or  2«.  2d, 
Nevertheless  the  Postal  Convention  enables  us  to  send  book  matter 
weighing  less  than  2  lbs.  for  \d.  per  2  oz.  Thus  a  book  parcel  just 
under  1  lb.  will  go  as  far  as  Rome  for  8ci.,  whereas  a  parcel  of  any 
other  kind,  of  \\iq  same  weight,  will  cost  three  times  as  much  to  Paris. 
Such  are  the  anomalies  which  our  apathy  allows  to  exist.  As  regards 
the  United  States,  it  is  worse  still.  A  year  or  tAvo  ago,  I  heedlessly 
imdertook  to  send  a  book  weighing  under  2^  lbs.  to  New  York,  being 
under  the  impression  that  I  could  post  it  thither.  But  at  the  post 
oflSce  my  book  parcel  was  promptly  rejected  as  exceeding  the  limit  of 
weight.  I  then  took  it  to  tw^o  diflerent  American  mail  packet  offices, 
each  of  which  asked  Is,  or  S.*?.  for  transmitting  this  small  package. 
With  this  extraordinary  demand  I  was  obliged  to  comply,  as  I  kne\v 
no  cheaper  mode  of  transmission.  Now,  the  original  value  of  the  book 
in  England  was  lO-s.  (kZ. 

In  the  case  of  small  parcels  conveyed  by  st^am-boat,  the  mileage 


cost  must  be  an  almost  incalculably  small  fraction.  In  fact  about 
Id.  per  lb.  would  be  ample  for  the  mere  freight  to  America ;  adding, 
say,  Ad.  for  collection  and  deliver}^  on  each  side,  my  book  should  have 
been  transmitted  for  about  a  shilling ;  or  about  one  eighth  part  of  what 
it  cost.  In  fact  all  this  kind  of  traffic,  when  not  superintended  by 
the  State,  is  treated  as  a  close  monopoly,  to  the  great  injury  of  the 
pubhc,  and  in  the  long  run,  I  am  convinced,  to  the  detriment  of  the 
carrying  companies  themselves. 

There  is  plainly,  then,  a  world  of  improvement  to  be  eflfected  in  this, 
as  in  many  other  directions.  But  where  is  the  Rowland  Hill  to  effect 
it?  Few  have,  like  him,  the  happiness  of  looking  back  on  a  great 
social  refonn  accomplished  by  his  single-handed  energy.  Men  of  the 
younger  generation  have  Uttle  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had  to 
fight  step  l>y  step  against  the  bureaucracy  of  the  Post  Office.  That 
department,  which  now  congratulates  and  eulogizes  itself  upon  its 
wonderful  achievements,  should  never  forget  that  these  inestimable 
improvements  were  forced  upon  it,  as  it  were,  at  the  point  of  the 
sword.  I  may  have  some  future  opportunity  of  pointing  out  how 
obstructive  is  the  Post  Office,  or,  at  least,  the  Treasuiy,  in  refusing  to 
extend  the  benefits  of  the  Berne  Postal  Union  to  the  whole  world,  as 
the  English  Government  alone  might  do  it.  But  one  thing  is  enough 
at  a  time.  It  is  with  the  infinite  bUndness,  and  selfishness,  and 
obstructiveness  of  the  railway  companies  in  the  matter  of  small  goods 
that  we  have  here  to  deal.  I  can  scarcely  comprehend  why  they 
should  combine  to  suppress  and  strangle  this  one  branch  of  traffic, 
when  they  so  ably  develop  other  branches.  AVhen  it  is  a  question  of 
collecting  and  conveying  milk,  or  fish,  or  cockles,  or  watercresses, 
nothing  can  be  more  effective,  and  in  general  economical,  than  their 
arrangements.  As  to  the  manner  in  which  the  railways  distribute  the 
morning  London  newspapers  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land, 
nothing  can  be  more  wonderful  or  more  satisfactory.  But  in  the 
matter  of  small  goods  conveyance  I  have  shown  that  blindness, 
monopoly,  waste  of  labour,  chaotic  want  of  system  yet  prevail.  So, 
though  parcels  may  seem  a  petty  matter,  I  yet  hold  that  there  is  in 
this  direction  a  really  great  work  of  Social  Reform  to  be  achieved. 
There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  be  separated  as  we  are,  either  in 
Britain,  or  in  Greater  Britain.  When  we  learn  to  utilize  properly  our 
wonderful  railway  system,  and  to  take  advantage  of  the  recent  enor- 
mous progress  of  steam  navigation,  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
not  make  the  whole  world  kin.  Friendship,  literature,  science,  art, — 
civilization  in  all  its  phases,  are  promoted  by  nothing  so  surely  as  the 
interchange  of  ideas  and  of  goods.  A  imiversal  parcel  post  would  be 
the  harbinger  of  universal  free  trade. 

W.  Stanley  Jevons. 


OMNIA  EXEUNT  IX — TiiEOLOGiAM.  No  branch  of  science  nppnavH 
to  consider  itself  complete,  nowadays,  until  it  has  issm  d  at  lafet 
into  the  vexed  ocean  of  theology.  Thus,  Biology  writes  "Lay 
Sermons"  in  Professor  Huxley;  Physics  acknowledges  itself  almost 
Christian  in  Professor  Tyndall ;  Anthropology  claims  to  be  religious 
in  Mr.  Darwin  ;  and  Logic,  in  Mr.  Spencer,  confesses  that  **  a  religious 
system  is  a  normal  and  essential  factor  in  every  evolving  society."  * 
It  is  only  the  second-rate  men  of  science  who  loudly  vaunt  their 
ability  to  do  without  religion  altogether,  and  proclaim  their  fixed  and 
unchangeable  resolve  for  its  entire  suppression.  As  well  resolve  to 
suppress  the  Gulf  Stream  or  the  eccentricity  of  the  earth* s  orbit !  If 
the  horizon  of  man's  thought  is  bounded  on  all  sides  by  mystery,  it  is 
in  simple  obedience  to  the  law  of  his  nature  that  he  gives  some  f^hapcAo 
that  mystery.  It  were  mental  cowardice  to  shrink  from  facing  it ;  it 
were  positive  imbecility  to  declare  that  the  coast-hne  between  known 
and  unknown  had  no  shape  at  all.  Granted  that  the  line  be  a  slowly 
fluctuatuig  one,  and  that  conquests  here  and  losses  there  reveal  them- 
selves in  course  of  time  and  one  day  become  "striking"  to  the  com- 
monest observer,  does  that  fact  acquit  of  folly  the  Agnostic  statement 
that — now  and  here — there  is  no  thinkable  line  at  all,  no  features  to  be 
described,  nothing  to  sketch,  no  appreciable  curves  and  headlands,  no 
conception  possible  which  shall  integrate  (for  practical  utility)  that 
great  Beyond  whose  boundaries,  on  the  hither  side  at  least,  are  known 
to  us  ?  Men  who  can  only  attend  to  one  thing  at  a  time,  and  whose 
"one  thing"  is  the  field  of  a  microscope  or  "the  anatomy  of  the 
lower  part  of  the  hindmost  bone  of  the  skull  of  a  carp,"t  niay  i)erlia)^s 

*  Spencer  :  Sociology  (7th  ed.  1878),  p.  313. 

t  Cf.  Mivart :  Contemporary  Evolution  (187G),  p.  13 1. 


escape  tlie  common  lot  of  manhood  by  ceasing  to  bo  "  men,''  in  any- 
ordinary  sonfio  of  the  word.  But  for  people  who  live  in  the  open  air 
and  sunshine  of  connntm  life  there  is  the  same  necessity  for  a  religion 
as  there  is  for  that  mental  map  of  our  whereabouts  that  we  all"  carry 
with  us  in  our  brains.  Let  any  one  recall  his  sensations  when  he  has 
at  anytime  been  overtaken  in  a  fog  or  a  snow-storm,  and  when  all  his 
bearings  have  been  blotted  out,  then  he  will  readily  undei*stand  the 
need  which  all  men  feel  for  a  theology  of  some  kind,  and  he  will 
appreciate  what  the  old-school  divines  meant  when  they  said  that 
•'  Theologj'  was  the  queen  and  mistress  of  the  sciences,"  harmi«nizing 
and  gathering  up  into  architectonic  unity  all  the  multifarious  threads 
that  the  subordinate  sciences  had  spun. 

I.  One  is  driven,  nowadays,  to  repeat  both  in  public  and  private 
these  very  obvious  reflections,  owing  \o  the  extraordinary  persistence 
with  which  certain  philosophers  think  fit  to  infonn  us  that  we  are  all 
making  a  great  mistake;  that  we  can  do  very  well  without  a  rehgion; 
and  that,  though  it  is  true  '-man  cannot  live  by  bread  alone/*  but 
must  have  /rAv^^■,  yet  the  creed  by  whieh  he  may  very  well  make  shift 
to  live  is  this — *'S(»MKTHIXG  IS."*  In  point  of  brevity  there  is  here 
little  to  desire.  The  Apostles*  Creed  is  prolix  by  comparison,  and 
although  we  might  fairly  take  exception  to  "  some-thing,*'  as  embody- 
ing two  very  concrete  acts  of  the  iinagination  and  therefore  (capable 
of  further  logical  ''purification,"  it  were  ungenerous  to  press  the 
objection  too  far.  This  creed  is  purer  than  that  of  Strauss :  **  We 
believe  in  no  God,  but  only  in  a  self-poised  and  amid  eternal  changes 
constant  universum.'*t  It  is  wider  than  that  of  Hartmann  :  **  Godisa 
personification  of  force."{  It  is  simpler  than  that  of  Matthew  Arnold: 
God  is  '•  a  power,  not  ourselves,  that  makes  for  righteou8ness.*'§  It 
is  more  hitelHgible  than  that  of  J.  S.  Mill :  '*  a  Being  of  great  but 
Uraited  power,  how  or  by  what  limited  we  cannot  even  conjecture," — 
a  notion  found  also  in  Lucretius  and  in  Seneca.||  It  is  more  theo- 
logical than  that  of  Professor  Huxley  :  ''  The  order  of  nature  is  ascer- 
tainable by  our  faculties,  and  our  vohtion  counts  for  sometlnng  in  the 
course  of  events."^  It  is  similar  to  that  of  the  ancient  Brahmans : 
"That  which  cannot  be  seen  by  the  eye,  but  by  which  the  eye  sees, 
that  is  Brahma ;  if  thou  thinkest  thou  canst  know  it,  then  thou  know- 
est  it  very  little  ;  it  is  reached  only  by  him  who  says,  *  It  is  I  It  isl'"** 
And  considering  that  this  formula  is  very  nearly  what  is  said  also  by 
the  Fathers  of  the  Church,  what  better  formula  concordicp  between 

•  Physiciifl  :  Exiimiuation  of  Theism  (1S7S),  p.  112  : — "What  was  the  essential  sub- 
stance of  that  ["atheist i«;]  thtH->ry  ?  Apparently  it  was  the  bare  statement  of  the  unthink- 
able fact  that  iSomt'thing  Is.  The  essence  of  Atheism  I  take  to  consist  in  the  single 
dogma  of  self-fxistonce  as  itself  suflBcient  to  constitute  a  theory  of  things." 

t  Stniuss :  DtT  alte  und  der  neue  Glaubo  (Uh  ed.  1S73),  p.  IIC. 

X  Hartmann  :  Gott  und  Naturwissenschaft  (2nd  ed.  1S72),  p.  14. 

§  M.  Arnold :  Litonituro  and  Dogma,  p.  31h3. 
.  J.  S.  Mill :  Kssays  on  Keligion,  p.  12t.    Cf,  Lucretius,  vi.,  and  Seneca,  Nat.  Qu.  i.  1. 

%  Uuxley :  Lay  Sermons. 
**  The  Ux)anishad :  m>.  CIarke*8  Ten  Great  Beligions,  p.  84. 


science  and  theism  could  we  require  ?  For  instance,  Clemens  Alexan- 
drinus  (a.d.  200)  echoes  St.  Paul's  *'  Know  Him,  sayest  thou  !  rather  art 
known  of  Him,"  with  the  confession  "  We  know  not  what  He  is,  but  only 
what  fie  is  not ;"  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  (a.d.  350)  says,  "  To  know  God 
is  beyond  man's  powers ;"  St.  Augustine  (a.d.  400),  ''  Rare  is  the  mind 
that  in  speaking  of  God  knows  what  it  means ;"  John  of  Damascus 
(a.d.  800),  "  What  is  the  substance  of  God  or  how  He  exists  in  all 
things,  we  are  agnostics,  and  cannot  say  a  word;"  and  in  the  middle 
ages.  Duns  Scotus  (a.d.  1300),  "  Is  God  accessible  to  our  reason  ?  I 
hold  that  He  is  not."* 

It  seems  then  there  is  a  consensus  among  all  competent  persons^ 
who  have  ever  thought  deeply  on  the  subject,  that  the  real  nature  of 
that  Power  which  underlies  all  existing  things  is  absolutely  unknown 
to  man.  And  it  is  allowable,  therefore,  in  the  last  resort  to  fall  back 
upon  Spinoza's  word  "  sub-stance  ; "  and  to  accept — if  charit}^  so 
require — as  the  common  basis  for  theological  reunion,  the  Agnostic 
formula,  "  Something  Is." 

But  then,  unless  some  means  be  found  for  instantly  paralyzing  the- 
restless  energy  of  human  inquiiy,  the  next  question  is  inevitable, — 
What  is  that  Something  ?  What  are  its  qualities,  its  attributes  ? 
How  are  we  to  conceive  of  it  ?  Given  (in  Aristotelian  phrase),  its 
ovo-io,  what  is  its  ttoiott/?,  its  Trwrvrrr;^  and  the  rest,  which  go  to  make  up  its 
idea?  "Existence"  is,  after  all,  only  one  of  our  three  necessary  forms 
of  thought :  "  Space  "  and  "  Time  "  are  also  necessaiy  to  our  thinking. 
And  it  is  in  vain  for  pure  Logicians  to  put  on  papal  airs,  to  forbid  the 
question,  to  cry  Non  poasumus^  and  to  stifle  all  free  thinking.  It 
is  useless  to  say,  "  We  have  already,  with  razors  of  the  utmost  fineness, 
split  and  resplit  every  emergent  phenomenon ;  we  have,  by  assiduous 
devotion  to  the  one  single  and  undisturbed  function  of  analysis, 
examined  every  possible  conception  that  man  can  form,  and  hav& 
discovered  everywhere  compound  notions,  ideas  that  are  "impure'* 
and  capable  of  further  logical  fissure  :  salvation  is  only  possible  hy 
the  confession  that  '  Something  Is ; '  there  rest  and  be  thankful  I  '* 
It  is  all  of  no  avail.  Naturam  eorpellas  furcd — she  is  sure  to  return  in 
armed  revolt,  and  to  demand.  Who  told  thee  that  thou  wast  thus 
nakedly  equipped?  Reason  is  one  thing;  but  imagination  is  also' 
another.  If  analysis  is  a  power  of  the  human  mind,  so  also  is  synthesis. 
If  you  cannot  think  at  all  without  using  the  one,  neither  can  you 
^without  employing  the  other.  Take  for  instance  a  process  of  the 
"  purest "  mathematics, — "  twice  six  is  twelve ; "  you  were  taught  that 
probably  with  an  abacus,  and  the  ghost  of  the  abacus  still  lingers  in 
your  brain.  "  The  square  of  the  hypothenuse ;  "  you  saw  that  once 
in  a  figured  Euclid,  and  you  learnt  thereby  to  form  any  number  of 
similar  mental  figures  for  yourself.     No :  you  may  call  the  methods  by 

•  Gal.  iv.  9 :  Clem.  Alex.,  Strom,  v.  11 ;  Cyr.  Jer.,  Cat.  Lect.  xi.  3 ;  Aug.,  Confess.. 
zlii.  11 ;  Joh.  Dam.,  Do  Fide  Orthod.  i.  2;  Dims  Scotus,  In  Sent.  i.  3. 1. 


which  mankind  think  **  impure,"  or  attach  to  them  any  other  deroga- 
tory epithet  you  please  ;  but  mankind  will  deride  you  for  your  pains, 
and  will  reply,  "  The  philosopher  who  will  only  breathe  pure  oxygen 
will  die ;  he  that  walks  on  one  leg,  and  declines  to  use  the  other,  will 
cut  but  a  sorry  figure  in  society ;  he  that  uses  only  one  eye  will  never 
get  a  stereoscopic  A-iew  of  anything.  Use,  man,  the  compound  instru- 
ment of  knowledge  your  nature  has  provided  for  you, — and  you  vnll 
both  see  and  Kve,"  Why,  even  so  determined  a  logician  as  "Physicus  '* 
is  obliged  sometimes  to  admit  that  "  this  symbolic  method  of  reasoning 
is,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  only  method  of  scientific  reasoning 
which  is  available/'*  And  Professor  Tyndall,  in  the  November 
number  of  another  Review,  after  complaining  that  "  it  is  against  the 
mythologic  scenery  of  reUgion  that  science  enters  her  protest,"  finds 
himself  also  obliged  to  mythologize ;  for  he  adds  (seven  pages  further 
on),  "  How  are  we  to  figure  this  molecular  motion  ?  Suppose  the 
leaves  to  be  shaken  from  a  birch-tree,  .  .  .  and,  to  fix  the  idea^ 
suppose  each  leaf,"  &c.     And  so  Professor  Cooke  writes  : — 

"I  cannot  agree  with  those  who  regard  the  wave-theory  of  light  as  an 
established  princi])le  of  science.  .  .  There  is  something  concerned  in  the  pheno- 
mena of  light  which  has  definite  dimensions.  We  represent  these  dimensions 
to  our  imagination  as  wave-lengths ;  and  we  shall  fiiul  it  difficult  to  think  clearly 
ujK>n  the  subject  without  the  aid  of  this  wave-theory."t 

In  short,  it  is  obvious  that  without  the  help  of  this  mythologic,  poetic, 
image-forming  faculty  all  our  pursuit  of  truth  were  in  vain.  And 
therefore,  starting  from  the  common  basis  of  a  confession  that  **  some- 
thing is,"  we  are  more  than  justified,  we  are  obeying  a  necessary  law 
of  our  nature,  in  asking  WHAT  that  eternal  substratum  of  existence  is, 
and  with  what  morphologic  aid  the  Imagination  may  best  present  it 
for  our  contemplation. 

But  here  the  pure  logician  may  perhaps  retort,  "  You  forget  that 
the  conceptions  men  form  of  things  are,  at  their  veiy  best,  nothing 
more  than  human  and  therefore  relative  conceptions.  A  fly  or  a  fish 
probably  sees  things  differently.  And  an  inhabitant  of  Iklercury  or 
Saturn  might  form  a  conception  of  the  universe  bearing  little  resem- 
blance to  yours."t  Quite  true  ;  but  logicians  there,  too,  would  pro- 
bably be  heard  to  complain  that,  coloured  by  Satumian  or  Mercurian 
relativities,  truth  was  sadly  impure,  and  was,  in  fact,  attained  by  no 
one  but  themselves.  Nay,  in  those  other  worlds  priests  of  Logic  might 
be  found  so  wrapped  in  superstition  as  to  launch  epithets  of  contempt 
on  all  who  approached  to  puncture  their  inflated  fallacies ;  and  who 
devoutly  beReved  that  a  Syllogism  did  not  contain  a  petitio  principii 

*  Examination  of  Theism,  p.  84.    f  Cooke  :  The  New  Chemistry  (4th  ed.  1878),  p.  22. 

X  Physicus  (p.  143)  rides  this  logical  hobby  far  beyond  the  confines  of  the  sublime.  He 
demands  of  the  Theist  to  show  that  his  "  GKxl  is  something  more  than  a  mere  Causal 
Agent  which  is  '  absolute '  in  the  grotesquely-restricted  sense  of  being  independent  of 
one  petty  race  of  creatures  with  an  ephemeral  experience  of  what  is  gfoing  on  in  one 
tiny  comer  of  the  universe." 


neatly  wTapped  up  iii  its  own  premises,  and  an  induction  was  not  an 
application  of  a  pre-existing  general  idea  but  a  downright  discovery 
of  absolute  ti-uth.  If  from  such  afflictions  we  on  Earth  are  free,  it 
is  because  the  common  sense  of  mankind  declares  itself  serenely  con- 
tent with  the  relative  and  the  human ;  because,  while  fully  aware 
(from  our  schoolboy  days)  that  all  our  faculties — reason  among  the 
i-egt — are  Hmited  and  earthly,  we  have  faith  that  "all  is  well'*  in 
mind,  as  it  certainly  is  in  matter;  and  because  we  smile  at  the  sim- 
pUcity  of  our  modern  Wranglers  who  can  only  analyze  down  as  far  as 
"  Something,"  when  their  Buddliist  masters  two  thousand  year^  ago 
had  dug  far  deeper, — ^viz.  to  NOTHIXG  : — 

*'  The  mind  of  the  supreme  Buddha  is  swift,  (luick,  piercing ;  because  he  is 
infinitely  •  pure.'  Nirwana  is  the  destruction  of  all  the  elements  of  existence. 
The  beiiig  who  is  'purified '  knows  that  there  is  no  Ego,  no  self:  all  the  alliic- 
tions  connected  with  existence  are  overcome :  all  the  principles  of  existt^ice 
are  annihilated  :  and  that  annihilation  is  Nirwana."  * 

The  Churchman,  therefore,  holds  himself  so  far  justified  in  claiming 
the  modem  Atheist  as  his  ally.  They  are  at  least  travelling  both 
together  on  the  high-road  which  leads  from  a  destructive  Nihilism 
towards  a  constructive  religion.  Only  the  Atheist  has  thought  it  his 
•duty  to  go  back  again  to  the  begiiming,  and  to  measure  industriously 
the  same  ground  that  the  Church  had  gone  over  just  two  thousand 
four  hundred  years  ago,  when  the  great  '*  Something  is "  addressed 
itself  to  man  through  Moses  in  the  word  "  I  am "  or  Jehovah  (•^^''^\ 
Absolute  Existence). t 

But  perhaps  the  pure  logician  may  attempt  another  reply.  Fhuling 
us  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  hearing,  once  again,  the  familiar 
tmth  that  all  our  faculties  are  limited,  he  may  attempt  to  shatter  our 
serenity  by  an  announcement  of  a  more  novel  kind.  He  may  say. 
Not  only  is  the  imageiy  with  which  you  clothe,  represent,  and  conceive* 
the  Self-existent  merely  relative  and  human,  but — far  more  damning 
fact — it  is  all  a  development.  It  has  all  grown  with  the  growth  of  your 
race.  Environment  and  heredity  have  supplied  you  with  all  yunr 
forms  of  thought.  Even  your  "  conscience  is  nothing  more  than  an 
organized  body  of  (u.-rtahi  psychological  elements  which,  by  long 
inheritance,  have  come  to  inform  us  by  way  of  intuitive  feeling  how 
we  should  act  for  the  benefit  of  society.^J 

Be  it  so.  The  proof  has  not  yet  been  made  out.  But  since  these 
evolution-doctrines  are  (as  Dr.  Newman  would  say)  *'  in  the  air,"  it  is 
more  consonant  to  the  ruling  ideas  which  at  present  dominate  our 
imagination  to  conceive  things  in  this  way.  Indeed,  to  a  large  and 
increasing  number  of  Churchmen  the  evolution-hypothesis  appeai-s,  not 
only  profoundly  interesting,  but  probably  true.  They  find  there 
nothing  to  shake  their  faith,  and  a  good  deal  to  confirm  it.  Man  is 
what  he  is,  in  whatever  way  he  may  have  become  so.  And  how  Atheists 

*  Haa'dy :  Eastern  Moniu-hism,  p.  201.         f  Exod.  vi.  3.         J  Physicus,  p.  31. 


can  pLTsnaJe  themselves  that  this  beautiful  theory  of  the  Divine 
method  helps  their  denial  of  a  deity,  the  modern  school  of  theologians 
is  at  a  loss  to  understand.  For  the  cosmic  force  whom  Christians 
worship  has.  from  the  very  beginning,  been  represented  to  them,  not 
as  a  tickle,  but  as  a  continuous  and  a  law-abitling  energy.  *•  My 
Father  worketh  hitherto,"  said  Christ.  '*  Not  a  sparrow  falloth  to  the 
ground  "  without  His  cognizance.  "  The  very  hairs  of  your  head  are 
all  numbered."  *•  In  Him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being.*' 
Pictorial  expressions,  no  doubt.  But  what  words  could  more  clearly 
inchcate  the  unbroken  continuity  of  causation  in  nature  than  these 
texts  from  the  Christian  Scriptures  ?  And  it  is  surely  the  establish- 
ment of  a  continuous,  as  distinct  from  an  intermittent,  agency  in 
nature  which  fbnns  the  leading  point  of  interest  both  to  science  and 
to  the  Church,  at  the  present  day,  as  against  a  shallow  Deism,  If, 
therefore,  man's  imaginative  and  moral  focidties,  as  we  know  them 
now,  are  a  development  from  former  and  lower — yes,  even  from 
savage,  from  bestial,  from  material — antecedents,  what  is  that  to  us? 
Of  man's  logical  powers  the  selfsame  thing  has  to  be  said.  Why  then 
should  logic  give  itself  such  mighty  airs  of  superiority  and  forget  its 
equally  humble  origin  ?  How  does  it  affect  the  truthfulness  in  relation 
to  man.  and  the  tnistworthiness  for  all  practical  piu^oses,  of  our 
image-forming  faculties,  that  it  is  what  it  is  only  after  long  evolution, 
and  that  the  race  had  a  footal  period  as  well  as  the  individual  ? 

The  upshot,  then,  of  the  whole  discussion  is  surely  this.  The  Abso- 
lute is  confessedly  inconceivable  by  man.  All  our  mental  faculties 
are  in  the  same  categorj" :  they  are  all  finite,  relative,  imperfect.  But 
then  they  are  suited  to  our  present  development  and  environment. 
Faith  in  them  is  therefore  required,  and  a  bold  mascuUne  use  of  them 
all.  For  in  nature,  as  in  grace,  **  God  hath  not  given  us  the  spirit  of 
fear,  but  of  power  and  of  love  and  of  a  sound  mind."*  If,  then,  there 
are  questions  into  which  mere  analytic  reasoning  cannot  enter,  if  logic 
18  powerless,  for  instance,  before  a  musical  score,  and  is  struck  dumb 
before  the  self-devotion  of  Thermopyla},  or  the  unapproachable  self- 
sacrifice  of  Calvary,  by  what  right  are  we  forbidden  to  employ  these 
other  faculties  which  help  us,  and  whoso  constnictive  help  brings  joy 
and  health  and  peace  to  our  minds?  The  many-coloured  poetical 
aspect  of  things  is,  assuredly,  no  less  *'pure"  and  far  more  interesting 
than  the  washed-out  and  colourless  zero  reached  by  interminable 
analysis.  The  coloured  sunlight  is  no  less  *•  pure,"  and  it  reveals  a 
gi'eat  deal  more  of  truth,  than  "  the  pale  moon's  watery  beams."  And 
so  we  venture  to  predict  that  a  constructive  Chiistianity  which, 
TToXvftcpws  KoX  TToXtT-poTToj?,  Tcvcals  tlic  cosuiic  force  and  unity  to  the 
millions  of  men,  will  ever  hold  its  own  against  a  merely  destructive 
Buddhism,  whether  ancient  or  modem ;  and,  long  after  pure  logic  has 
said  its  last  word  and — with  a  faint  cry,  '*  Something  perhaps  is'' — has 

•  2  Tim.  i.  7- 


evaporated  into  Nirwana,  will  continue  its  thrice-blessed  effoi*ts  to 
rear  a  palace  of  huraan  thought,  will  handle  with  reserve  and  dignity 
the  best  results  of  all  the  sciences,  and  will  integi'ate  (with  courage 
and  not  despair)  the  infinite  contributions  of  all  phenomena  into  a 
theology  of  practical  utility  to  the  further  evolution  of  the  human 

For  evolution  there  has  certainly  been.  And  in  spite  of  all  that 
has  been  said  to  the  contrary,*  the  moral  atmosphere  which  lia^ 
from  age  to  age  rendered  mental  progress  possible  has  been,  for  the 
most  part,  engendered  by  reUgion,  and,  above  all,  by  the  confidence, 
peace,  and  brotherhood  preached  by  the  Christian  Church.  No  doubt 
religion  was  cradled  amid  gross  supei-stitions ;  and  only  by  great  and 
perilous  transitions  has  it  advanced  from  the  low^er  to  the  higher.  It 
was  a  great  step  from  the  Fetish  and  the  Teraphim  to  the  animal  and 
plant  symbols  of  Egypt  and  Assyria.  It  was  another  great  step  to 
Baal,  the  blazing  sun,  and  Moloch,  wielder  of  drought  and  sunstroke, 
and  Agni,  friendly  comrade  of  the  hearth.  But  when  astronomy  and 
physics  had  reached  sufficient  growth  to  master  all  these  wonders,  and 
to  predict  the  solstices  and  the  ecUpses,  then  the  fulness  of  times  had 
come  once  more ;  and  now  the  greatest  religious  transition  was  accom- 
plished that  the  human  race  has  ever  seen — a  transition  from  the 
physical,  and  the  brutal,  and  the  astral  to  the  human  and  the  moral,  in 
man's  search  after  a  true  (or  the  to  him  truest  possible)  representation 
of  the  infinite  forces  at  play  around  him.  In  Abraham  the  Hebrew — 
^^y,  the  man  who  made  the  great  transition — this  important  advance 
is  typified  for  the  Semitic  races  ;  for  others,  the  results  only  are  seen 
in  the  Olympian  conceptions  of  Heeiod  and  Homer.  For  here  we  have, 
at  last,  the  nature-forces  presided  over  and  controlled  after  a  really 
human  fashion.  Crude,  and  only  semi-moral,  after  all,  as  was  this 
earliest  humanizing  effort ;  still  human  it  was, — not  mechanical  nor 
bestial.  And  it  opened  the  way  for  Socrates  to  bring  down  pliilosophy, 
too,  from  heaven  to  earth,  for  Plato  to  discuss  the  mental  processes  in 
man,  and  apply  them  (writ  large)  to  the  processes  of  nature,  and  for 
Moses  to  elaborate  with  a  divine  sagacity  a  completely  organized 
society,  saturated  through  every  fibre  with  this  one  idea, — the  unity 
of  all  the  nature-forces,  great  and  small,  and  their  government,  not 
by  haphazard,  or  malignity,  or  fate,  but  by  what  we  men  call  LAW. 
"  Thou  hast  given  them  a  law  which  shall  not  be  broken."  For  this 
word  '*  law  "  distinctly  coimotes  rationality.  It  implies  a  quality  akin 
to,  and  therefore  expressible  in  terms  of,  human  reason.  Its  usage  on 
every  page  of  every  book  of  science  means  that;  and  repudiates 
therefore,  by  anticipation,  the  dismal  invitations  to  scientific  despair 

•  Draper  :  The  Conflict  between  Science  and  Keligion.  Now  York,  1873.  Thia  other- 
wise admirable  work  is  disflgurcd  throughout  by  a  prejudice  against  religion,  as  a  factor 
in  human  progress,  which  is  almost  childish.  The  learned  author  surely  forgets  his  own- 
words,  "  No  one  can  spend  a  large  piirt  of  his  life  in  teaching  science,  without  partaking 
of  that  love  of  impartiality  and  truth  which  philosophy  incites.'*    (P.  ix.) 


TTitli  whic-b  the  logicians  a  outraucc  are  noTC  &o  pressingly  oblige 
ing  ns. 

This  grand  transition,  then,  once  made,  all  else  became  easy.  The 
human  imagination,  the  poetic  or  plastic  power  lodged  in  oiir  brain, 
after  many  failnres,  had  now  at  last  got  on  the  high  road  which  led 
straight  to  the  goaL  Redemption  had  come ;  it  only  needed  to  be 
unfolded  to  its  utmost  capabihties.  Dull  fate^  dumb,  sullen,  and  in>* 
practicable,  had  been  renounced  as  infra-human  and  unworthy.  Let 
stocks  and  stones  in  the  moim tains  and  the  forests  be  ruled  bv  it ; 
not  free,  glad,  and  glorious  men  I  Brute,  bestial  instinct  also  had  been 
renounced,  as  contemptible  and  un divine  in  the  highest  degree.  And 
so.  at  last,  the  culminating  point  was  attained.  The  human-divine  of 
Asiatic  speculation,  and  the  divinely-human  of  European  philosophy, 
met  and  coalesced :  and  from  that  wedlock  emerged  Christianity,  The 
*•  Something  is  "  of  mere  bald  analytic  reasoning  had  become  clothed 
by  the  imagination  with  that  perfect  human  form  and  character  than 
which  nothing  known  to  man  is  higher:  and  that  very  manhood, which 
is  nowadays  so  loudly  asserted  by  Positivists  and  Atheists  to  be  the 
raofit  di\'ine  thing  known  to  science,  was  precisely  the  form  in  which 
the  new  religion  preached  that  the  great  exterior  existence, the  Some- 
thing Is,  the  awful  "  I  AM,"  can  alone  be  presented  intelligibly  to  man. 
For  ••  No  man  shall  see  Jehovah  and  live,"  says  the  Old  Testament: 
*'  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time,"  says  the  New  Testament ; 
the  Son  of  Man,  who  is  cis  tov  koXttw  tov  Trarfw — projected  on  the 
bosom  of  the  absolute  "  I  am" — He  hath  declared  Him. 

Of  this  language  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  it  is  obvious  that  Hegers 
doctrine, — echoed  afterwards  by  Comte  and  the  Po8iti\48ts, — is  a  sort 
of  variation  set  in  a  lower  kev.  In  humanitv,  said  he,  the  divine  idea 
emerges  from  the  material  and  the  bestial  into  the  self-conscious. 
Humanity  presents  us  with  the  best  we  can  ever  know  of  the  divine. 
In  "  the  Son  of  ^lan  "  that  SOMETlliXti  which  lies  behind,  and  which  no 
man  can  attain  to,  becomes  incarnate,  visible,  imaginable.  But  it  can- 
not surely  be  meant  by  these  philosophers  that  in  the  sons  of  men 
taken  at  haphazard  the  Divinity,  the  great  Cosmic  Unknown,  is  best 
presented  to  us.  It  cannot  possibly  be  maintained  that  in  the  Chinese 
swarming  on  their  canals,  in  the  hideous  savages  of  1  Polynesia,  or  in 
the  mobs  of  our  great  European  capitals,  the  **  Something  is  "  can  be 
effectively  studied,  idealized,  adored.  No,  it  were  surely  a  truer 
statement  that  humanity  concentrated  in  its  very  purest  known 
form,  and  refined  as  much  as  may  be  from  all  its  aniniaHsm,  were 
the  clear  lens  (as  it  were)  through  which  to  contemplate  the  great 
Cosmic  Power  beyond.  It  is  therefore  a  sox  of  man,  and  not  the 
ordinary  sons  of  men,  that  we  require  to  aid  our  minds  and  uplift  our 
aspirations.  Mankind  is  hardly  to  be  saved  from  retrograde  evolution 
by  superciliously  looking  round  upon  a  myriad  of  mediocre  realities. 
It  must  be  helped  on,  if  at  all,  by  a  new  variety  in  our  species  suddenly 


putting  fortli  in  onr  midst,  attracting  wide  attention,  securing  de- 
scendants, and  offering  an  ideal,  a  goal  in  advance,  towards  which 
effort  and  conflict  shall  tend.  We  must  be  won  over  from  our  worldly 
lusts  and  our  animal  propensities  by  engaging  our  hearts  on  higher 
objects.  We  must  learn  a  lesson  in  practical  morals  from  the  youth 
who  is  redeemed  from  rude  boyhood  and  coarse  selfishness  by  love. 
AVe  must  allow  the  latent  spark  of  moral  desire  to  be  fanned  into  a 
flame  and,  by  the  enkindling  admiration  of  a  human  beauty  above  the 
plane  of  character  hitherto  attained  by  man,  to  consume  away  the 
animal  dross  and  prepare  for  new  environments  that  may  be  in  store 
for  us.  What  student  does  not  know  how  the  heat  of  love  for  tmth 
not  yet  attained  breaks  up  a  heap  of  prejudices  and  fi:ced  ideas,  and 
gives  a  sort  of  molecular  instabiUty  to  the  mind,  preparing  it  for  the 
most  surjjrising  transfoimations  ?  Who  has  not  observed  the  develop- 
ment of  almost  a  new  eye  for  colour,  or  a  new  ear  for  refinements  in 
sound,  by  the  mere  constant  presentation  of  a  higher  aesthetic  ideal  ? 
And  just  in  the  same  way,  who  that  knows  anything  of  manldnd  can 
have  failed  to  perceive  that  the  only  successful  method  by  which 
character  is  pennanently  improved  is  by  employing  the  force  of  example, 
by  accunnilating  on  the  conscience  reiterated  touches  of  a  new  moral 
colour,  and  by  bringing  to  bear  from  above  the  power  of  an  acknow- 
ledged ideal,  and  (if  possible)  from  around  the  simultaneous  influence 
of  a  similarly  affected  environment  ? 

Baptize  now  all  these  truths,  translate  them  into  the  ordinary 
current  language  of  the  Church,  and  you  have  simply  neither  more 
nor  less  than  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Clirist.  And  as  carbon  is  carbon, 
whether  it  be  presented  as  coal  or  as  diamond,  so  are  these  high  and 
man-redeeming  verities, — about  the  inscrutable  "  I  am,"  and  His 
intelHgible  presentment  in  a  strangely  unique  SoN  OF  Max,  and  the 
transmuting  agency  of  a  brotherhood  saturated  with  His  Spirit  and 
pledged  to  keep  His  presence  ever  fresh  and  effective — verities  still, 
whether  they  take  on  homely  and  practical,  or  dazzUng  and  scientific 
forms.  And  the  foohsh  man  is  surely  he  who,  educated  enough  to 
know  better,  scorns  the  lowly  form,  and  is  pedantic  enough  to  suggest 
the  refinements  of  the  lecture-room  as  suitable  for  the  rough  uses  of 
everyday  life.  A  man  of  sense  will  rather  say.  Let  us  by  all  means 
retain  and — with  insight  and  tnist — employ  the  homely  traditional 
forms  of  these  sublime  truths :  let  us  forbear,  in  charity  for  others,  to 
weaken  their  influence,  and  so  to  cut  away  the  lower  rounds  of  the 
very  ladder  by  which  we  ourselves  ascended  :  .and  let  us  too,  in  mercy 
to  our  own  health  of  character,  decline  to  stand  aloof  from  the  world 
of  common  men,  or  to  relegate  away  among  the  lumber  of  our  lives 
the  €7r€a  iJHovavra  gitItoktiv  that  wc  learnt  of  simple  saintly  Ups  in 
childhood.  Rather,  as  the  Sox  OF  Max  hath  bidden  us,  we  will 
"  bring  out  of  our  treasures  things  both  new  and  old ;"  ^vill  remember, 
as  Aquinas  taught,  that  "  nova  nomina  antiquam  fidein  de  Deo  signi- 


ficant :~  and  ttiII  carnr  out  in  practice  that  'word  weU  spoken  in  g<yod 
seASivii-  ••  It  is  not  hx  rejecting  what  is  formal  bnt  br  interpreting  it, 
that  we  advance  in  true  ppiritiialitA-."* 

II.  C>n  the  other  hand,  if  men  of  ^science  are  t^^  be  won  back  t<>  the 
Church,  and  the  widening  gulf  is  to  be  bridged  over  which  threatens 
nowadays  the  destruction  of  all  that  we  hold  dear, — it  cannot  be  too 
often  or  too  earnestly  repeated,  Th^  Church  miisf  not  pari  comjxmy  trifA 
tAi:  irt'r/*/  fhe  U  cc»nmi4'fiio9i^  to  eranffcltze.  She  must  a>vake  both  from 
her  Renaissance  and  her  Mediaeval  dreams.  To  turn  over  on  her 
uneasy  couch,  and  try  by  conscious  effort  to  dream  those  dreams 
again,  when  daylight  is  come  and  all  tlie  house  is  fully  astir,  this 
surely  were  the  height  of  faithless  folly.  An  animating  time  of  action 
is  come,  a  day  requiring  the  best  exercise  of  skill  and  knowledge  and 
moral  cc'Urage.  Shall  we  hear  within  the  camp,  at  such  a  moment  as 
this,  a  treiisonable  whisper  go  roimd,  "By  one  act  of  mental  suicide  we 
may  contrive  to  escape  all  further  exertion ;  science  is  perplexing,  history 
is  fall  of  doubts,  psychology  spins  webs  too  fine  for  our  self-indulgence 
even  to  think  of.  Why  not  makt-  believe  very  hard  to  have  found 
an  infallible  oracle,  and  determine  once  for  all  to  desert  our  pi\st  and 
•jurare  in  verba  magistri  ?'"  It  is  true  that  history  demonstrates 
beyond  a  doubt  that  Jesus  and  His  apostles  knew  notliing  of  any  such 
contrivance.  But,  never  mind !  "  A  Catholic  who  should  adhere  to 
the  testimony  c»f  history,  when  it  appears  to  contradict  the  Qiurch. 
would  be  guilty  not  merely  of  treason  and  hereby,  but  of  apostasy,'*! 
Yes,  of  treason  to  Rome,  but  of  faithful  and  courageous  loyalty  to 
Christ.  *'  I  am  the  truth.''  said  Christ.  '*  The  truth  shall  make  you 
free."  Speak  the  truth  in  love,  prove  all  things,  hold  fast  that  which 
is  true,  said  His  apostles.  How  can  it  ever  be  consonant  to  His  will 
that  the  members  of  His  brotherhood  should  conspire  together  to  make 
believe  that  white  is  black  at  the  bidding  of  any  man  on  earth?  The 
Church  of  England,  at  any  rate,  has  no  such  treason  to  answer  for. 
Her  doctrinal  canons,  by  distinctly  asserting  that  even  "  General  Coun- 
cils may  err  and  have  erred,"  and  by  a  constant  appeal  to  ancient 
documents,  universally  accepted,  but  capable  of  ever-improving  inter- 
pretation, have  averted  the  curse  of  a  sterile  traditionalism.  No  new 
Ught  is  at  any  time  inaccessible  to  her.  Every  historical  truth  v 
treasured,  every  literary  discussion  is  welcome,  every  scientific  dis- 
covery finds  at  last  a  place  amid  her  system.  Time  and  patience  are, 
of  course,  required  to  rearrange  and  harmonize  all  things  together, 
new  and  old  ;  and  a  claim  is  rightly  made  that  new  "  tniths ''  should 
first  be  substantiated  as  such,  before  they  are  incorporated  into  so  vast 
and  widespread  an  engine  of  popular  education  as  hers.  But,  with 
this  proviso,  '*  Theologj-  accepts  eveiy  certain  conclusion  of  phj-sical 

•  The  Piitience  of  Hope,  p.  70. 

t  Abbu  Martin:  Con'timpobaby  Eeview,  December,  1S7S,  p.  'Jl. 


science  as  man's  unfolding  of  God's  book  of  nature."  *  It  is,  there- 
fore, most  unwise,  if  any  of  her  clergy  pose  themselves  as  hostile  to 
new  discoveries,  whether  in  history,  literature,  or  science.  It  may  be 
natural  to  take  up  such  an  attitude;  and  a  certain  impatience  and 
resentment  at  the  manner  in  which  these  things  are  often  paraded,  in 
the  crudest  forms  and  before  an  unprepared  public,  may  be  easily 
<5ondoned  by  all  candid  men.  But  such  an  attitude  of  suspicion  and 
tostiUty  between  "things  old"  and  "things  new"  goes  far  beyond 
the  commission  to  "  banish  and  drive  away  all  strange  and  erroneous 
•doctrines  contrary  to  God's  word."  For  this  commission  requires 
proof,  and  not  surmise,  that  they  are  erroneous ;  and  the  Church  has 
had  expeiience,  over  and  over  again,  how  easy  and  how  disastrous  it 
is  to  banish  from  the  door  an  unwelcome  guest,  who  was,  perhaps, 
nothing  less  than  an  angel  in  disguise.  The  story  of  Galileo  will 
never  cease,  while  the  world  lasts,  to  cause  the  enemies  of  the  Church 
to  blaspheme.  Yet  of  late  years  it  has  been  honestly  confessed  by 
divines  that  "the  oldest  and  the  youngest  of  the  natural  sciences, 
astronomy  and  geology,  so  far  from  being  dangerous,  .  .  seem 
providentially  destined  to  engage  the  present  centuiy  so  powerfully, 
that  the  ideal  majesty  of  infinite  time  and  endless  space  might  coun- 
teract a  low  and  narrow  materialism."  f 

This  experience  ought  not  to  be  thrown  away.  No  one,  who  has 
paid  a  serious  attention  to  the  progress  of  the  modern  sciences,  can 
entertain  a  doubt  that  all  the  really  substantiated  discoveries  which 
have  been  supposed  to  contravene  Christianity  do  in  reality  only 
deepen  its  profundity  and  emphasize  its  indispensable  necessity  for 
man.  Never  before,  in  all  the  history  of  mankind,  has  the  Deity 
seemed  so  awful,  so  remote  from  man,  so  mighty  in  the  tremendous 
forces  that  He  wields,  so  majestic  in  the  ponnanence  and  tranquillity 
of  His  resistless  will.  Never  before  has  man  realized  his  own  excessive 
smallness  and  impotence ;  his  inability  to  destroy — much  more,  to 
create — one  atom  or  molecule  ;  his  dependence  for  life,  for  thought,  for 
character  even,  on  the  material  environment  of  which  he  once  thought 
himself  the  master.  The  forces  of  nature,  then,  have  become  to  him 
once  more,  as  in  the  infancy  of  his  race,  almost  a  terror.  And  poised 
midway,  for  a  few  eventful  hours,  between  an  infinite  past  of  which 
he  knows  a  little  and  an  infinite  future  of  which  he  knows  nothing, 
he  is  tempted  to  despair  of  himself  and  of  his  little  planet,  and  in 
'Childish  petulance  to  complain,  "  My  whilom  conceit  is  broken  ;  there 
is  nothing  else  to  live  for."  And  amid  these  foolish  despairs,  a 
voice  is  heard  which  says,  "  Have  faith  in  GOD  I  have  hope  in  Christ  I 
have  love  to  man  !  Knowledge  of  this  tremendous  substratum  of  all 
being  it  is  not  for  man  to  have  :  his  knowledge  is  confined  to  pheno- 
mena and  to  very  human  (but  sufficient)  conceptions  of  the  so-called 

*  Dr.  Pusey  :  University  Seimon,  No  em^or,  1878. 
t  Kaliscli :  On  Genesis,  p.  43. 


kiws  l«7  wbi'.^h  tlv^y  all  cohen-?.  Bat  these  three  «iuaUties  are  mora!» 
not  irit-lVM:m:.vI.  virtues.  For  the  <.'aurch  never  teaches  thtit  God 
«.'an  be  .-H.-ieiLtirl'^ally  kn-.uvn :  she  never  ocf-.-rs  certainty  arvl  s<ij:ht»  but 
vnly  -  Li-. •re."*  in  mar.y  an  ascendin^r  dej^ree :  she  Jors  :.i-jt  say  that 
GoJ  is  a  iiian.  a  pors-'n  like  one  of  u-^^ — that  were  inJ-.*jJ  Morvor?eIy 
to  misvLnJer^tand  her  subtle  terniini.>Io;^y, — but  only  a  MAX  has 
appeart::J.  wh-n  the  time  was  ripe  ror  him*  in  whom  that  awful  and 
tremend'U*  Existence  has  shown  us  S'.>methin.:r  o(  His  idt-as.  has  made 
intelligible  to  us  ;as  it  were  by  a  Word  t)  the  listening  ear»  wliat  we 
may  venture  to  call  His  "  mind**  towards  us,  and  has  uivited  us — by  the 
simple  expeiiient  i^f  .giving  c'ur  heart's  kmilty  to  tfiis  most  lovable  Son 
of  man — to  reach  out  peacefully  to  higher  evolutions,  and  to  commit 
that  ill' lest ructible  force,  our  Life,  to  Him  in  serene  welWoiug  to 
the  brotherhood  among  whom  His  spirit  work&,  and  whose  welfare  He 
accounts  His  own. 

Is  u.jt  this  /vnnf.viizinfj  of  the  great  Existence,  for  moral  and  practical 
utility,  and  this  ntUi\uuy  {so  to  speak)  of  yet  another  creative  word  in 
the  ascending  scale  of  continuous  development,  and  this  ^torutl'.zin^  of 
His  sweet  beneficent  Spirit  in  a  brotherhood  as  wide  as  the  world, 
precisely  the  rL-Hgion  most  adapted  to  accord  with  modern  science  t 

Ytrt  no  ♦r.e  can  listen  to  ordinary  sermons,  no  one  can  open  popular 
b.:»»  .ks  •  f  pi^ty  or  of  doctrine,  without  feeling  the  urgent  need  there  is 
among  <  hTirchmen  for  a  higher  appreciation  of  the  majestic  infi^.dtude 
•f  Gt)L'.  Ir  is  true  that,  in  these  cases,  it  is  the  multitude  and  not  the 
liighly-edu'.ate*!  ftw  who  are  addressed :  and  that,  even  among  that 
multitu'le.  there  are  noutr  so  grossly  ignorant  as  to  compare  the  Trinity 
to  ••  thrtre  L-  »rd  Shaftesburys."  and  not  many  so  childish  as  to  picture 
••  t  'ne  Ahuighty  descending  into  hell  to  pacify  another."*  Such  petu- 
lance is  rt<t,rved  for  men  of  the  highest  intellectual  gifts,  who^ 
wheth'-r  purpr.scly  or  ignorantly.  it  is  hard  t*^  Siiy — have  stv>oped  to 
providv  th».'ir  generation  with  a  comic  theology  of  the  Christian 
Church.  But,  after  all,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  that  the  shadows  of 
a  well-loved  past  are  lingciing  too  long  ovtT  a  present  that  might  bo 
bright  with  joyous  sunshine  ;  that  the  subtleties  of  the  schov»lmen  are 
t«to  long  allowed  to  darken  the  air  with  pohitless  and  antiipiated 
weapons :  that  the  Renaissance,  with  its  literary  fanaticism,  still 
reigns  owr  the  whole  domain  of  Christian  book-lore:  and  that  the 
crude  conceptions  of  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy  have  never  yet,  among 
ecclesiastics,  been  thoroughly  dislodged  or  replaced  by  the  far  more 
magnificent  revelations  of  the  modern  telescope.  It  is  not  asserted  that 
no  percolation  of  "  tlmigs  new"  is  going  on.  It  is  not  denied  that  as 
in  the  first  century  a  change  in  ideas  about  the  priesthood  carri,>d 
with  it  a  change  in  the  whole  religious  system  of  which  that  formed 
the  axis.t  so  now  a  change  in  ideas  about  the  earth's  position  in  space 

•  M.  AmoM  :  Lit-nituro,  &c.  (1S73\  p.  30i*..    Spi?ncor  :  Sociolosry  (7th  ed.  ISTS^p.  208. 
t  Heb.  vii.  12. 


demands  a  very  skilful  and  patient  readjustment  of  all  our  connected 
ideas.  But  such  a  readjustment  of  the  old  Semitic  faith  was  eflfected, 
in  the  first  century,  by  St.  Paul ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  think  that 
the  Church  is  unequal  to  similar  tasks  now.  And  in  this  country 
especially  there  is  an  established  and  organized  '*  Ecclesia  docens*' 
which  probably  never  had  its  equal  in  all  Church  history  for  the 
literaiy  and  scientific  eminence  of  its  leading  members.  For  such  a 
society  to  despair  of  readjusting  its  theology  to  contemporaiy  science, 
or  idly  to  stand  by  while  others  effect  the  junction,  were  indeed  a  dis- 
graceful and  incredible  treason  ;  so  incredible  that — until  it  be  proved 
otherwise — no  amount  of  vituperation  or  unpopularity  should  induce 
any  reflecting  Englishman  to  render  that  work  impossible  by  allowing 
his  Church  to  be  trampled  down,  and  its  time-honoured  framework  to 
be  given  up  as  a  spoil  to  chaos. 

But  there  is  yet  another  element  in  this  question,  wliich  binds  the 
Church  of  Christ  to  give  to  its  solution  the  very  closest  and  most 
indefatigable  attention.  It  is  this:  that  from  every  science  there 
arises  nowadays  a  cry  like  that  addressed  to  Jesus  himself  when  on 
earth, — *'  Lord,  help  me  I  "  It  is  not  as  if  Atheism  were  satisfied  with 
itself.  In  the  pages  of  the  National  Reformer  and  similar  organs  of 
aggressive  free-thought  we  are  amused  with  the  buoyant  audacity 
of  the  "young  idea."  Yet  even  there  we  find  many  a  passage 
which  calls  forth  the  sincerest  sympathy.  Ta